Oedpius
by GLORIA CONEHEAD SPACE MARINE
Summary: On the planet of Oedipus, the once peaceful planet is now ravaged by an Ork Waaagh and something lurking in the shadows. But sometimes, the will of fate, and the love of the emperor can truly create miracles.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a beautiful city once. Once. The streets were once hustle and bustle with people getting on to their jobs, to their lives and to do what needed to be done. The city had once been filled with sweet laughter and happy talk of family, friends and work. Officially, the world that this city resided in was known as a civilized world underneath the labels that the officials would give it.

To any observer who simply just took a look at the surrounding area of the city. The place would be called a death world right off the bat. There was no more happy talk about family and jobs, but instead the groans of wounded in their final moments or the screams of mourning mothers that found their lifeless children. Lines upon lines of bodies filled the ditches that were dug in a hurry, while in throwing distance, was a fortified position of an Imperial guard regiment. Lines and lines of artillery to bolter positions.

Miles from them, was the green tide. Though the fighting with the "humies" had long been done for the moment, the orks still continued their rambunctious squabbles. Most were petty, some were over the "shiny tings" or anything of small value that the dead citizens of the city had in their pockets, but one argument that any outsider would consider holding value was who got to be Warboss. Hours ago, some "Very small humie with a big gun" had shot the Warboss Gitstompa with one "big shoota". Gitstompa survived the incident. Mostly. The painboyz had done a good job with attaching the bioniks, but if there was any pittance of wisdom in the head of an Ork, it was that an injured warboss typically meant opportunity for someone else to become the big shot.

This opportunity would end abruptly, when the sound of a power klaw hitting another Ork upside the head reverberated from the ruins of a courtyard, sending him crashing through several walls, leaving Ork shaped holes in them.

"Alrighty ya gits! Who else wants to be da boss of this Waaagh?!" The formerly-thought crippled Gitstompa asked as he turned his head from one nob to the other. Wisely, the entire line of them took a few steps back. Orks may not be the smartest beings in the galaxy, but even they weren't THAT stupid when they saw someone getting punched into high orbit.

"Da doczdid a good job. Dem slimy squigz aren't so bad at after all!" Gitstompa. "Now den. You there! What are da boyz doing?!"

"Umm... not getting ya boss."

"WHAT ARE DA BOYS DOING YA STOOPID GRUBNUT!" Gitstompa asked. "WHYZ AREN'T ME BOYS FIGHTING?! WEZ ORKS ARE THE BEST AT FIGHTING... SO WHY AIN'T WE DOING IT?!"

No one had an answer, except for the cricket. Needless to say, Gitstompa was more than just a little angry at this. He decided to vent out some of his rage underneath by kicking the closest one of his boyz into the wall before turning back to the rest of the mob.

"GETZ BACK TO FIGHTING SUM HUMIES. AND IF ANY ONEZ OF YOUSE LOT FINDS DAT HUMIE. YA BETTAH TELL ME. I'd like to stomp ha myself."

* * *

><p>They had been lucky. Very lucky at that. It was fortunate that the Imperial guard regiment had literally been in shouting distance, and they were luckier that General Hughes was pretty good at his job. They were also lucky that the orks picked a bad spot to land in the middle of a peninsula.<p>

What they weren't lucky about was that an Ork warboss decided to land his rok right in the middle of a densely populated urban area. They weren't lucky that until the orks were done butchering nearly the entire city, the imperial guard didn't show up. And they weren't lucky that it took countless lives to contain the first wave of the orks.

And there was a certain someone, who at the current moment, didn't care about luck. There was a certain someone, who was currently busy sitting on top of one of the many bunkers that had been erected, and surveying the city. She cut a splendid figure, with her long golden strands that tipped all the way to her waistline while, her lithe yet strong limbs gave her an overall "simpleton village girl" appearance. Had it not been for the fact that she was currently carrying a powersword that was nearly her own height, no one would be able to tell that this was the same girl that had made Warboss Gitstompa lose an arm.

Surveillance was actually surprisingly hard... or maybe it was because it was boring. Or maybe both. Regardless to whatever reason it was that made her job so uneventful, Eisheth didn't really care too much. Leaving the binoculars, she hopped down from her vantage point and went to the large camp fire. In the middle of the summer, a massive fire seemed a bit superfluous to most people until they realized, warmth wasn't the reason they had a fire. Rather, there was a large pot stewing coffee for the senior officers in the regiment. Namely for the Commissar, who like most Commissars, had a bit of reputation to be extra... "Blamy" if not given at least a cup of coffee on any day.

The girl working on this most vital task was much like Eisheth in many ways. Beautiful, to an almost divine quality, the young girl was sure to cause many heads to turn every time she walked by. Of course, saying anything that could be considered along the lines of fraternization with a witch would result in instant BLAM* from the closest commissar, so much members of the Imperial Guard would be smart enough to lock their lips tight. This definitely didn't apply to their eyes, when the witch uniforms had short pants. Very short pants. Or the fact that both girls were around that age when their... "features" became most prominent.

"Coffee, Freya?" Eisheth asked as she held out a bowl. "Any cream? Or sugar?"

"Commissar Mele is monopolizing it. It's better that way. When he get's his coffee just as he likes it, there's a higher chance of him not killing anyone." The witch replied as she poured Eisheth a bowl of the dark liquid. "Heard you killed their warboss."

"Almost. He got away." Eisheth said as she shook her head. "If I did... maybe the Orks could have just started fighting themselves again, and maybe then, we could all go back to going where were going. Maybe home."

"_Maybe home. You know? Where the weather is nice, and the animals are always so friendly! At least in my case._" Freya replied sarcastically as some of the senior officers showed up for their daily coffee rations, making sure to give the _nice and friendly_ commissar an extra large bowl with plenty of cream and sugar when it was his turn.

"Thanks." The man grumbled as he took a deep satisfying gulp. "Get your tools and kits ready. These dogs need some rallying, and right now, our scouts report that Warboss Gitstompa is both alive and well. Chances are, they're readying for an attack."

"So... we wait here and let them come to us?"

"No. Hiding and waiting is the coward's way to fight a war. We are taking the battle straight to them." Mele replied as he continued drinking his coffee. "Some of these dogs are already showing signs of being terrified of some orks. Humph. That's why I need you two actually useful soldiers to get into your strikers, and charge the orks."

_Yay! Sending us to die! Like how we always wanted!_ Eisheth thought to herself as she took a drink. "Alright. Give the word sir, and we'll be on our way."

"Good. It's good to see General Hughes at least has some competent soldiers in his regiment."

* * *

><p>Luck. That was such a defining factor in one's life, and one's lifespan. Especially when it came to being in the Imperial Guard. A baneblade crewmember could be happily shooting more thousands of bolter rounds as he watches his enemies flee before him, while a rank-and-file grunt would find himself on the receiving end of a few thousand bolter rounds. Armed with the lasgun which had been "affectionately" nicknamed "pens" and armored with the carapace armor which was also "affectionately" nicknamed "wet toilet paper" it wasn't so hard to see why because of luck some people had it better than others. Just pray to The Emperor some inquisitor likes the way you act...<p>

Witches. Luck. They were psykers to the core, but unlike the majority of pyskers, who would find themselves being hounded into the dreaded black ships. Their luck would be far better. Instead of being food for their god or bent to have their minds be weapons, witches were something that many commanders of the Imperial Guard PRAYED to have in their regiments despite the fact that they were severely limited in power when compared to most of the "normal" psykers.

Safety first. That had been a rule lost long ago by the Imperial Guard, but it was still something most people would rather follow. Psykers were the epitome of this. Frankly, no one wanted to be within anyone that could literally explode at any given moment. Witches were not like this. They would never have to fear having their minds driven insane by the whispers of devils or the intrusion of daemons. Never have to worry of "accidentally" making someone explode. That was the beauty of the witches (Not to be confused with the same word that is typically used on psykers who weren't so... controlling... of their powers).

Though, like most people who found themselves different. Witches too would face much mistrust from the more tighter inquisitors, and from the sisters of battles, who refused to use psykers of even the "safest" caliber. But did this even matter when for every detractor, there would be hundreds of praises and people who wanted them on the battlefield?

Well it did. Want to know why? The thing about Freya and Eisheth was this.

They were INFANTRY witches.

Okay. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Granted, the carapace armor given to them when imbued with their inherent abilities offered a whole new layer of protection, but wasn't going to be stopping bolter rounds any time soon. That's what the shield was for, which fortunately, was actually quite good at deflecting bolter rounds. Thing was, they'd still be better off with things like the Baneblade or the Leman Russ, which meant being safe from all four sides from bolter fire, and meant that the presence of their abilities could drastically increase the machine spirit's abilities.

Right now, surrounded by friends and comrades, hopefully they had their backs. Within the fields of Oedipus, the Imperial Guard made it's bid to cleanse the world of the Ork invasion.

Let's be frank. If they were to look at their regiment, they were probably well off in comparison. Warboss Gitstompa was some warboss no one had even heard about, his green tide was certainly not even attention worthy of segumentum command, and chances are, the only reason they were here was because that General Hughes just happened to have been drilling his men not too far away. Besides, the General was well-known to be a man who loved claiming more victories under his belt just like Commissar Mele, so it wasn't too hard to see why the two were naturally in consensus about giving the Orks what they came for. A fight.

* * *

><p>Hughes' 12th Jocasta regiment was like most regiments, possessing witches yet having them few in number. Eisheth and Freya were the two veterans of the little circus. Eisheth's inherent ability was increasing her strength to impressive levels, rivaling that of an astartes. Her friend Freya had an ability to unleash a burst of power from the warp to shield someone near her. As such, there were plenty of times when Eisheth thanked her lucky stars for the bright blue orb that surrounded her, especially when the orks were busy peppering her with bolter fire. Her massive sword flashed once, cleaving many orks in two.<p>

Many a guardsman (and Ork) would marvel at the sight of how Eisheth could wield such almost a hilariously large blade. Even though witches were inherently stronger than most ordinary humans, it was still raised a few eyebrows to how she managed. Probably due to magic, but once more, it was difficult to tell when a witch was using her powers or not. If she was using that blade WITHOUT any magical aid... then... that was something that'd cause even an Astartes to be impressed over. And Emperor knows how hard it is to see something one of his own space marines hadn't. Speaking of which.

Light years away, a band of Dark Angels found themselves behind a trench. Much to their own chagrin, the enemy, the filthy traitors had erected barricades and defenses that'd stop their advance. Force Commander Sandalphon was having "somewhat" of an issue as he sat down irritably on a large rock, clicking the closest wall out of sheer annoyance.

"Any minute now..." The commander mumbled to himself as a scout took a peek before monotonously reporting in on the fact that there was no way they'd take that fortification without at least taking grievous casualties. Surprisingly, the commander hardly even noticed, seemingly to be more annoyed over the fact that someone was tardy. Who this was, no one really knew. The Dark Angels were famed for their discipline of iron which currently, may actually be wavering since everyone was wondering what the hell that commander was even talking to himself about. No reinforcements have ever been mentioned over the vox or anything for that matter. There was no Dark Angel vessel to give fire support, nor would there be any additional battle brothers coming in. This band of twenty or so marines simply could only sit in the trench, and hope that something happens.

"Commander. Perhaps we should charge them?" Someone suggested as the rest of the force took pot shots at the cultists. "Our blades thirst for the blood of the chaos scum."

"Patience brother. The Emperor will not look favorably upon wasted lives." Sandalphon replied as he waited. Under normal circumstances, it seemed like the Dark Angels were in an awful position. From in front of them, was a fortress of the traitors. From behind them, was the straggling remnants of a warband the Dark Angels had overlooked in their initial assaults. If both sides were to attack at once, the angels would find themselves boxed in, and possibly destroyed. Yet Sandalphon, despite his current moment, showed more signs of annoyance than desperation as he tapped his fingers impatiently. That was when the horn sounded.

"Finally!" The Force Commander said as he jumped up. "When our cousins get here... we attack."

"Cousins, commander?"

"I told our cousins, the Space Wolves, "not" to come to this battle."

[Meanwhile, behind them]

"YAAAARRGGGHHH, LET'S DO IT!" A particularly boisterous (and drunk) Space Wolf cried out at the top of his lungs as he rushed headlong in front of his brothers, armed with a grenade launcher. A well aimed shot at a cultist sent limbs flying in all directions, to the joy of this particular wolf. "NOT ONE OF YA IS GONNA SURVIVE THIS."

At the sound of the war-cry from the sons of Fenris, the Dark Angels all turned their heads to find themselves getting an excellent view of a variety of chaos space marines and cultists being pummeled into bloody pulps. In the trench, they were joined by dozens of warriors in grey, all of which were more than eager to battle the great enemy.

"Tavish! I told you not to come to this battle!" Sandalphon called in false anger as he glared at some of the wolves.

"YA DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO LAD!" Tavish replied as he readied his grenade launcher for further action. "Alright lads! KILL THEM ALL."

Giving a silent command, Sandalphon waved forward his angels as the green and grey horde tore out of the trench, braving past lasgun and bolter fire. Most of which rattled harmlessly off his artificer armor. Tavish however, despite hardly ever being sober, wasn't one to ever give in to arrogance or carelessness. No armor would ever protect anyone from THAT kind of idiocy.

"Hey Ullr!" Tavish called from his vox.

"What is it?" The gruff yet refined voice barked back.

"Check for me if those gits have brains! Will ya?"

No reply. Just the crack of a Space Marine sniper rifle killing a Chaos Havoc.

"That should help." The Sniper in the shadows voxed. "Get moving."

"Thanks mate!" Tavish replied as he broke cover and charged right through the Chaos line, scattering cultists and chaos space marines alike. Laughing manically in his happiness as grenades flew like crazy, scattering sections of broken armor and gore all throughout the battle.

Sandalphon shook his head at the sight of the crazed Space Wolf slaughtering the entire chaos lines. Listening to Tavish slur like a drunkhard at a chaos space marine he was busy beating to death with his fist.

"I am gonna kill you, and I am gonna keep killing you, and I'll never... and you'll be dead... and I am gonna kill you."

"Commander. With all due respect to one of your seniority, was it wise to ask for the Space Wolves assistance?" Someone voxed at the sight of the space wolves going to wolf the chaos.

"The wolves are partially the reason this battle has been too easy." Sandalphon replied as he took a seat after decapitating the last chaos space marine. Well, second to last. The last was currently being beaten to death with Tavish's canteen. When the job was done, the man took a drink from the seriously dented container, while mumbling about his "scrumpy" aka Fenrisian rum.

"Well. It's once more a privilege to fight alongside our honorable cousins." A wolf scout with an air of seniority said as he approached Force Commander Sandalphon. "I do apologize for the behavior of... Tavish... you see... he loses his mind every time when his drink and his duty are in the same place at once.

"At least someone in the wolves is sober." Someone in the Dark Angels' vox snickered. When one looked at a space wolf... you didn't even need to actually to tell if they were drunk. They SMELLED like a brewery from a mile away. Except this scout. Maybe because that the scent of rum would give him away, or maybe he was the rare type that actually stayed sober *some* of the time.

"No problem." Sandalphon replied in a monotone, despite hiding a sly grin. "Even though I told you fools NOT to come help us..."

"Tavish's support amongst of our little merry band of fools is quite... umm... simple majority. You see, The Great Wolf has given us a bit of autonomy so long as we continue to follow his orders when called upon. As such, decisions are decided by a vote."

"I see. And now then, since we cleaned this mess up, what is your intention now?"

"Chances are, Tavish will want a banquet. Chances are even more, you're invited."

"Commander, Chaplain Asomdai will have our heads if we commit the heinous act of *having fun*. We should return to the rock immediately."

"Oh you know? By reprimanding everyone with authority he doesn't even hold?" Sandalphon replied. Taking off his helmet to drown out any protesters or supporters, the Force Commander looked at the scout. Tall with long hair that was combed and parted down at the chin level, and a sizable mustache that almost covered his upper lip, the Scout held an air of... unlikeness to any other Space Wolf. Maybe it was cause he didn't have a beard.

"May I ask for your name, cousin?"

"Ullr Fraken."

"Very well. I suppose we can attend celebrations, so long as we are not expected to greet throngs of civilians."

"Very well then. We, are honored by your acceptance." The Scout nodded as he voxed Tavish.

"SCRUMPY FOR EVERYONE!"

+++ Fools refer to them as miracles. Wise men refer to it as the Emperor's will+++

* * *

><p><strong>Characters that so far have been introduced:<strong>

**Freya: A special type of Psyker that is referred to as a "witch'. Typically manifesting in young children, the 'witch' is considerably weaker than most normal psykers, but does not run the risk of being possessed by daemons or falling to chaos. (Think Sisters of Silence but not superhuman). As you can probably tell from her name, she's named after Freya, queen of the Valkyries. Hmmm... I wonder what planet she's from...  
><strong>  
><strong>Eisheth: Same deal with Freya. <strong>

**Tavish Tyr: Space Wolf #1. Based off the TF2 Demoman from his lines and the way he acts.**

**Ullr Fraken: Space Wolf #2. **

**Sandalphon: Dark Angel character. **

**Now let's be honest. I am actually not too familiar with the in-depth parts of the 40k universe, having only read a few of the books. I am probably going to ask for help again and again here and there... or when in doubt, use 1d4chan for jokes. (Asmodai and the "no fun allowed" thing.)**

**But please, give me a review. Am I doing something right? Wrong? Or Emprah forbid, committing Canon-rape. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Before we start. **

**BIBOTOT, the "witches" part is a direct reference to "Strike Witches" the anime. I am stashing quite a few references in here, so try and find them. The obvious ones should be the names of various characters. (Now then, I only wish that Logan Grimnar's middle name was Odin)**

* * *

><p>Pouring himself a glass of Macragge brandy, Ullr Fraken sat besides his brother at the long mead hall of the Strike Cruiser Force of Russ. Aboard this ship, he was colloquially referred to as "The Captain" much to his own dismay. As he silently sat back and took a long gulp of the liquid, Tavish Tyr, would be busy getting into yet another drinking game with some other member of his chapter who thought they could out-drink him. Typically, this required said other member to be carried out into his quarters, and simply dumped there until he woke up with a splitting headache.<p>

"Now mind your manners laddies. We got guests on board." Tavish reminded as he slammed down his tankard and grabbed more rum. Fenrisian rum. That's the stuff. So strong to the point that a space marine's Oolitic Kidney would be required to kick in after just a few drinks. Whether or not Tavish actually meant what he said, no one had a clue. Especially when bets were being made all over the table about who could drink the most before passing out. In fact, Apothecary Paul of the Dark Angels had nearly ran off to grab his medical instruments until Tavish told him this happened on a daily basis.

"So, welcome to Fenris." Sandalphon smirked as he carved up some slices of veal, recalling the events of Tavish beating chaos space marines in full-armor to death with nothing but a canteen. "Only in Fenris do the men fight with their liquor and go off to drink if afterwards."

"Brother Tyr is a great warrior." One of the wolves commented. His name was Od, and just very recently did he just make it to the Grey Hunters, where now, he went aboard the crazy train. "The blood claws heard of him and his exploits. Legend has it he had once defeated one of the traitors with nothing but a ham shank."

"Wasn't it a street sign?" The wolf next to Od asked as he took a long drink of booze.

"Story changes every time. From a glass bottle, to a ham shank, to a street sign to a frying pan. No one even knows anymore." Ullr commented. "Now, as you know, it's tradition to tell stories around the table in Fenris. So my friends, how about a tale from the Dark Angels?"

"Aye. The Lion's lads probably got some great stories to tell." Tavish slurred. "Come on! Something good? Something funny? Something heroic?"

"Something... touching." Sandalphon began as from his robes he produced a small trinket. "Everyone. This belonged to a friend. Zeerzabahl. But, listen closely my friends. For Zeerzabahl was not just my friend."

If there was ever a time a Dark Angel's voice betrayed his emotions, this was the time as Sandalphon paused, took a drink of the closest ale and went on. Zeerzabahl was not just his battle-brother, but his brother that was also his own flesh and bone. Years ago, he'd been slain in battle against the Word Bearer's. Though three years may seem like a long time in the eyes of many mortals, it was merely a pittance of time when compared to the long life of the Space Marine. Zeerzabahl had been the model Dark Angel, unyielding. And he had allowed himself to stay behind, so he can continue to fight what he believed in. His brothers, and his Emperor.

* * *

><p>"Forward you dogs!" Commissar Mele screamed at the top of his lungs as he sent a boot right into someone's rear. The squad gingerly moved forward, only to be sent straight back by the showering of bolter rounds. Seeing that no one moved forward, the Commissar vented his anger by banging his head on the nearest wall.<p>

At least the coffee worked. Freya thought as she sat down against the rubble that would be serving as cover. Hundreds of them had died in just gaining a few streets of this city. Why Commissar Mele thought it was even remotely a good idea to push onwards was a mystery. Taking off her helmet, she opened her canteen and took a drink of water. Sweat beaded from her cheeks as Eisheth sat besides her, the blue blade was drenched with blood as it's corona sung for more.

"Pined down." Eisheth commented as she sat down besides Freya. "Look, we're not getting past this defense the Orks set up

"Yeah." Freya agreed as she gulped more water. "Look. I want to say I can get you maybe half-way through. And then you'll probably be dead."

"Well, that's not going to be helping our case then." Her friend replied as she took a quick and tentative peek. "Look. The Orks are far back, but they're dug in. And here we are. They can't hit us from here, but if anyone tries moving through that street, they can forget about living."

"How long do you think it'll take for some of our heavier units to deploy? I wouldn't mind seeing a Leman Russ going down that street." Freya said hopefully as she pictured the tank crushing the Orks.

"Dunno. We're just stuck here." Eisheth sighed as she amused herself by stabbing holes into the ground.

"You two!" Commissar Mele shouted as he saw the two girls sitting against the wall. "Don't tell me YOU of all people are going to just sit here!"

"Sorry sir, but there's nothing we can do. We can hold this line, but there's nothing on this planet that can stop anyone from getting torn apart by bolter fire if we as much as stick our heads out of cover." Eisheth replied in her most polite tone as possible, despite her current circumstances. "Certainly General Hughes will have the armor units ready?"

"There are NO armor units." The Commissar blasted as he slapped Eisheth right across the face. "Get off your ass, and go do something about that defense position. Take as many men as you please, but just KILL THEM."

"Okay. Okay!" Eisheth replied as she rubbed her stinging cheek and ran off with Freya lest the Commissar decided it was "blamy" time. "Freya. I hope you have some ideas that aren't us charging into that killzone."

"This may be great, or this may be terrible." Freya replied as she tapped a manhole with her feet. "You want to give it a try?"

"As long as I get to carve up some Orks, it's worth a shot." Eisheth smiled as she brandished her almost comically over-sized blade.

* * *

><p><em>"That sword. It's almost bigger than you." General Hughes said as he looked at Eisheth. Dressed to impress as they would say. "Where did you get it?"<em>

_"From a friend." Eisheth replied as her voice showed just the tiniest inch of wavering. "A very good friend."_

_"Was your friend wealthy? Affluent? Or a high ranking member of the Imperial guard? Perhaps the inquisition? It says within your files that you had served with various members of power within the Imperium. It does say here that you were once on a mission that required two squads of Dark Angels to accompany an inquisitor. Was your friend a member of the inquisition?"_

_"No. He was more than that." Eisheth said slowly and at more silent tone. "My friend. We had gone off to battle against one of the traitor legions. The Word Bearers as they are called. My friend... he stayed behind so that we could all escape. When we returned for him... there was nothing left except his sword. They wanted me to have it."_

_"Who's they?" Hughes asked. "I doubt any inquisitor can pick up that monster."_

_"They... they were the Dark Angels."_

_Maybe that wasn't entirely true. Maybe most of the Dark Angels didn't want Eisheth to have the sword. Only one of them did. Well two of them. The late Angel may not have written a will, but his final testimony had indicated he wanted Eisheth to have his sword._

* * *

><p><em>"Brother Sandalphon!" One of the Dark Angels called from over the din of war. "The traitors converge upon us at all directions."<br>_

_No need to constantly state the obvious Sandalphon thought to himself as his bolt pistol slammed into the head of one of the traitors, causing his head to explode into a shower of blood and gore. "Has the inquisitor found what he's looking for?!"_

_"Like we would know." Zeerzabahl replied in the most haughty tone. "Most of his stormtroopers are dead. Two of the three psykers that came with him are dead."_

_"And what of the last one?" Sandalphon asked with a raise in the speed of his words._

_"I've been keeping her safe." Zeerzabahl replied as he turned around at the young girl with the plasma rifle._

_Eisheth had thought many times she may get a heart attack today. Or how many times that someone had nodded in her direction because of approval. Out of the one hundred and fifty non-astartes assigned to the inquisitor's routine, she and eleven others were the only ones still breathing. Perhaps it was pride she felt towards herself, or maybe happiness at not being dead. _

_"She can take care of herself. Focus on the objective at hand."_

_"Like how you focused on the lives of over a hundred men?!" Zeerzabahl shot back. Normally, Sandalphon would have his own stinging insult. Just not today, he couldn't say a word. He was an astartes, sworn to protect mankind, and though there were many in his chapter who would have felt that mere mortals were nothing more than just a distraction to stop him from eating a bolter round, he never for once felt that way. They were people. Living beings, and they deserved to live a life without the threat of daemons and xenos._

_And that was where he redirected his hatred. Not towards his brother and battle-brother who held quite a sharp tongue, but against those damn Word Bearers who with their lies and their blasphemous chants had stolen the souls of millions. Time for vengeance. _

_"He's got it!" Someone from the mine called as the inquisitor came stumbling out, judging from how he looked, it was easy to see that he had obviously seen better days. In his hands was a large orb of some kind which gleamed and glowed with unholy power. _

_"Good. There is still time to save this land. We destroy this damn trinket, and it's over!" The inquisitor smiled triumphantly. "Eisheth!"_

_"On it." Eisheth replied as she turned around and made her way to the artifact._

_Luck. Such a defining factor in many moments. Had she been just a little closer, she would have died. But she didn't. The angry sing of the bolter whizzed right by her, the trail of it's path was something she felt on her cheek, as it sped right into the inquisitor's head. He didn't even scream. He never had time to as his head exploded along with the better portions of his upper body, leaving just a mutilated corpse. _

_It was then, that the Emperor had decided to protect someone else. Because the random slug of the auto-pistol pierced her right through the gut. She fell to the ground, staring into the warp tainted skies of the planet. The sounds of battle growing faint and distant. Nevertheless, she slowly tried to pick herself up, crawling towards the center. _

_Like an angel coming to save a virtuous saint in her time of need, the lone figure charged forward, braving past lasgun and bolter fire. Scooping her up as gently as possible, Zeerzabahl made a mad dash to and back. A lone bolter shell struck him in the shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain, but only succeeded increasing his pace as he went back to the tight ring his brothers had formed. _

_"YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE FOR THAT BAGGAGE?!" One of his brothers asked in almost rage as he glared at Zeerzabahl and Eisheth._

_"If a man dies so another may live, that man's spirit will eat at the table of The Emperor."__Zeerzabahl replied. "You disgust me."_

_"You're a naïve fool." _

_"So be it. But fool or not fool, this mission is lost. The artifact will likely fall into chaos hands. And the most we can do is hope we have our lives." Zeerzabahl said as the descent of a thunderhawk made his words fall right on cue. "Brothers. This battle is lost. And the Word Bearers will have their artifact. That cannot happen."_

_"What do you suppose we do? Our only means of purifying it is well... sort of dying." Someone said as he gestured at Eisheth who struggled to rise._

_"I can still do it... just give me some ti..."_

_"I doubt it. There's not even strength in your body to stand, let alone perform the rites. What will happen is that all of us die to cover you." Sandalphon replied. "Or you die, meaninglessly."_

_"That leaves one last option." Zeerzabahl stated as he took off his helmet, his eyes locked with Eisheth's for a moment before he gathered his words. "The explosives we used to dig the mine is still there. Plus plenty of ordinance to blow this place sky-high. If we can't destroy the artifact, we'll make it is lost to the Word Bearers' for another hundred years." _

_"Brother. This will require manual detonation of the ordinances. Chances are, we will be caught in the blast radius."_

_"No. I will be caught in it. You will all be safely away, and once you are, I want you to drop every ounce of capital weaponry on this location."_

_"I am not letting you die today!" Sandalphon exclaimed as bolter shells whizzed overhead over the sound of Eisheth's feeble gasps. There were times where he never agreed anything with his brother. Yet, he was still his brother not just in the Dark Angels, but as his flesh and bone._

_"It's not your choice to make." Zeerzabahl replied defiantly._

_"Then I'll stay with you." Sandalphon snapped._

_"Me... too..." Eisheth's meek voice called out._

_"No. To both of you." Zeerzabahl replied. "You, brother. You may be my sergeant, but today, you will not make my decision. I will give myself to The Emperor. You cannot stop me. Let me die and have my absolution. Live so you can earn yours."_

_"I...I... I'll stay." Eisheth called again._

_"No. You're not."_

_Zeerzabahl replied once more. "You're going back home."_

_"No... I... don't want to leave..."_

_She didn't get to finish her sentence as the armored hand clapsed over her mouth. The space marine looked into those angelic eyes of hers once more, before smiling._

_"It's okay." Was all he said as he left something right in her arms. Something heavy, and something very precious. His sword. "Take it."_

_"That artifact is not yours to give away. The chapter cannot afford such a costly charity."_

_"Then let it be said that the final testimony of Battle-brother Zeerzabahl of the 3rd company, is for my blade to be passed down to Eisheth. Surely you will not refuse me then? Good. I go now to perform my duty. Emperor be with you brothers."_

_"Good luck to you too." Sandalphon replied in a defeated tone as he waved down all protests. "Let him."_

_ He laid his brother's blade upon Eisheth who now looked to Zeerzabahl as he slowly disappeared down the trench._

_"Inquisitor Morran." Sandalphon said as he looked at the former acolyte, who was somewhat taken back before realizing that the death of his superior meant a field promotion. "Your call."_

_"We go." The inquisitor replied as the Thunderhawk left the battle, leaving but a single brother behind. The explosion however, could still have been felt from their distance._

_Eisheth felt it. A single tear fell out of her eye as Apothecary Paul went to operate on her._

* * *

><p>"Greenskins that way." Freya muttered as she and Eisheth crawled out of the manhole. "You think we can take them?"<p>

"No. But that's why we bought this." Eisheth replied as she handed Freya the sniper rifle. "You're one of the best shots in the whole regiment."

"Nah, that award goes to Königin. She's the best." Freya replied as she took a shot. Scratch one. Another shot. Scratch two.

"Königin went to sharpshooter school." Eisheth commented as the Orks milled about, making the whole thing a turkey shoot for Freya. "You never had any training."

"True. I was playing with stubbers when I could walk. Always made my mom nervous." Freya joked as she continued to take her shots. Despite being a psyker, she was unaware of the shadow that was stalking her...

* * *

><p>"Many years ago, we denied those fools something that may have destroyed us time."<p>

"Today, we find something that'll do the same to them."

The sorcerer grinned wickedly underneath his helm as he watched the events of Oedipus unfold. Just as planned, as Tzeentch was so found of saying.

"Tell me, milord, what is that this trinket will give us?"

"Dreams. Dreams. Wishes that the heart makes." The lord in ebon armor replied.

"What sort of dreams? Endless knowledge? The power to crush all before you? Or even... Daemonhood?"

"Something pettier, yet greater. Something more desirable, yet more repulsive. Something that left men in wanting for thousands of years."

* * *

><p><strong>While Power Swords (unless they're the named variant) probably aren't something<strong> **VALUABLE to the point where someone would object giving one away, I went out on a limb to assume that the Dark Angels don't just freely hand out weapons. The idea behind Zeerzabahl was that him giving Eisheth his sword was like him writing down a "will" of sorts. Because of the religious concepts behind a will during the Dark Ages, I went out on a limb to go that they'd have things like that in the 40th millennium. Do the Dark Angels really want to deny someone their final testament over something that's relatively easy to produce? Nah. Cold bastards aren't THAT cold. Which brings us to the point of Sandalphon. Most Space Marines usually don't care about regular humans. But since Azrael, the CHAPTER MASTER of all people is implied to care about the people he's fighting for, it can be assumed there are people in the Dark Angels that feel the same way. **

**By the way, Eisheth's account is supposed to be not 100% true. **

**That aside, ****Zeerzabahl is Sandalphon's brother in the literal term that the two are directly related to one another. **

**That aside the other character introduced, who actually did very little is called Od.**

**Now I hope someone knows their Nordic mythology...**


	3. Chapter 3

**+Call no man happy until he is dead.+**

Königin sat herself from a top the broken ruins of a former office hub, listening intently to the vox channels. Her sniper rifle. Long-las variant. Wrapped in the many layers of her cloak, she felt almost as comfortable as she would at home, sleeping peacefully in bed. It helped to have a cup of steaming hot chocolate by her side. These autumn days were chilly, and though they weren't any where near life-threatening, they were freezing as hell on some days. The subject of her attention, besides the vox would be the Ork defensive line. Orks were one of the embodiments of the belief that "the best defense was a good offense" and normally, when they found themselves on the defensive, it was likely for them to make mad charges at the enemy and hitting them hard.

Normally, standing at the top a building would give her away like a cow in a sheep herd. This certainly was not the case, as any Ork who looked up would see nothing.

Seeing that the Orks weren't likely to step out from her shooting, Königin laid herself down on the rooftop, her ear to the vox as she watched the clouds.

"Köni." Erwin's voice called as her partner seated himself next to her. "So. How many today?"

"Twelve. You?"

"Ten." Erwin smiled. "Congrats."

"I always win." Königin replied as Erwin handed her two chocolate bars. Placing them down in her pocket, the pair sat, invisible to all observers. Erwin had been smart enough to save his coffee rations for the day, and was enjoying a kick. He considered starting a fire to cook a meal, but then, maybe someone would see what was up. The last thing he needed was mortar rounds headed in the direction of a building that wasn't in too great shape.

"So, how's Freya and Eisheth doing?" Erwin asked as he opened a small container and took a bite out of his sandwich, watching the explosions and the fires in the distance. It was a shame the Orks had grown just smart enough not to be in their line of fire, he really wanted to beat Königin in their "games" one of these days.

"Doing something foolish. They told voxed me that they are going to infiltrate the Ork lines. But if this works, we can kill Gitstompa, and then we win."

"Yep. Back home to Jocasta." Erwin grinned. "By the way, Freya."

"What about her? She flirting with you again?" Königin teased as she poked her friend gently.

"That's your job." Erwin said, giggling like a first grader. "No. But, isn't she from Fenris? So... how did she come with us then? Jocasta is no where near Fenris."

"Hey, it's just according to her." Königin replied. "She could be making it up for all we know. The only one who we all know isn't from Jocasta is Eisheth. Emperor knows where she's from."

"She has a nice sword. Apparently the Dark Angels gave it to her."

"Lucky. I wonder if I can ever get my hands on a Exitus rifle." Königin replied as she took a pot shot. Scratch another.

"Nice shot."

"Thanks. We should move. There aren't any Orks in this area... wait. What's that?"

"What's what?" Erwin asked as he looked over Königin's shoulder.

"Look over there. I think that's more Orks..."

"Well, more target practice." Erwin grinned.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get a move on!" Königin smiled with anticipation as she jumped across the roof ledge, followed by Erwin.

* * *

><p>Like two miscreants out to pickpocket an unsuspecting fool, Freya and Eisheth snuck around through the bodies of the Orks. Compliments to Freya's marksmanship as she had managed not to miss a single time. The Orks, being Orks, kept rambling about how someone must have painted themselves purple, much to the confusion to the stealthy pair. Apparently in the minds of Orks, if you were purple, you were less likely to be seen. What.<p>

Confusion aside, Freya and Eisheth found themselves pushing deeper and deeper into the Ork held portions of the ruined city. With luck, Commissar Mele must have noticed the fact that the Ork defensive line that had been keeping his men at bay suddenly disappeared. And with that would mean he would make his grand push into the Ork held territory. Chances are, this would be when things got ugly real fast. Freya wasn't one who dismissed the Orks as a lack of a threat due their lack functioning brains. She had seen firsthand the amount of damage Orks can truly cause on several other occasions even though they were probably the one thing dumber than Ogryns. Not that she had anything against Ogryns.

"It's almost dark. Think we should hide in here for the rest of the night?" Eisheth asked as the pair made their way through the rubble and into the ruined building. Judging from how all the "shiny tings" weren't present, it could be assumed some of the lootas got here, that, and the huge hole in the wall.

"Yeah sure." Freya nodded as the two gingerly climbed up the stairs and into the attic of the wrecked house. A bit of improvising and the pair found a new excellent sniping position. Opening her canteen, the girl took a sip of water along with a bite out of a granola bar.

"Heard Erwin and Köni went off to investigate some more Ork movement." Eisheth commented as she watched the distance. The flares of the bolter rounds and the explosions of heavy duty ordinances throughout the entire city. "They spotted some more Ork movement."

"Humph. I bet Köni just wants to safe place for her to shag Erwin. Again."

"Jealous?" Eisheth teased. Erwin was the only male member of the witches assigned to the 12th who was still alive. Being a fine, strapping young man, he was the object of desire for Königin. Chances are, Commissar Mele probably knew about the "fraternization" that went on between Erwin and Königin, but since Erwin was also the General's wingman, it wasn't like Mele could give him the usual treatment without having to replace Hughes' personal psyker with the more powerful but less sane type.

"Humph no. I am just surprised Mele doesn't kick Königin's teeth in for... you know."

Well, she's the best sniper in the whole regiment. And Erwin is Hughes' wingman. Unless Mele has a replacement sniper or Hughes is somehow okay with a less sane psyker, I doubt Mele can do anything about it. Besides, Mele knew Erwin before the two signed up. Heard he was friends with Erwin's dad."

"Connections do get us far huh?" Freya asked rhetorically. Königin with her sniper school, Erwin with his connections to Mele. "How come you never ask for any favors from the Dark Angels?"

"Chances are, they'd be the one asking favors." Eisheth replied with a forced grin as she thought of the unsympathetic glances and the cold stares. Three men stood out. "They were good friends."

"I bet. Can't believe you got that thing as a gift." Freya continued, not knowing that Eisheth was bleeding cold sweat. "Any good memories?"

"Plenty." Eisheth replied after a long thought. "Freya, I am gonna sleep. Okay?"

"Sure. I am tired too." Freya replied as she stepped away from the hole she made, and rolled out her bed roll. In her sleep, she dreamed of home.

* * *

><p><em>"Mama!" The young girl called in terror at the bed. "Mama!"<em>

_"I am here Freya. I am here." The woman coughed as the doctor did his best to asses what was wrong. "I am okay Freya. I am okay."_

_"Mama... please don't die." Freya said through her tears._

_"Don't worry Freya, I am very proud of you." The woman said as she coughed again, this time vomiting up a few strings of blood and spittle. "Very proud of you."_

_"Mama... I... I... I made it into the Imperial Guard."_

_"I am proud of you." She said again. "And he'd be too. Your father. There were many things you never knew about your father Freya. He was a saint. Down from heaven, and he courted me. But The Emperor needed him back, and he left. He's waiting for me on the other side."_

_"Mama... don't leave me. Don't leave me like how papa left me." Freya said as she blinked back tears. Technically speaking, her father never left her. She never even met him._

_"Don't worry... don't worry... The Emperor... The Emperor... protects..." The woman said one final time, as her eyes flickered one last time with her final words, leaving naught but a distressed doctor and a weeping child._

_Where are you? I need you._

* * *

><p>"So then, how long do we remain here?" A Dark Angel asked Force Commander Sandalphon as he stared out of the window, into the infinite expanses of the universe. Situated at the Captain's chair was Ullr Fraken, giving random orders to the various bridge crew. The "Captain" as Ullr was called occasionally looked back at the Space Wolf leaned against the edge of the doorway, drool coming out of his mouth as he held a half-eaten turkey leg with one hand, and a bottle of half empty mead in the other.<p>

"I don't know." Sandalphon replied. "We've managed to get a message out to the Supreme Grand Master, but we have so far no reply. Currently, we will simply have to wait here. Is there a rush sergeant?"

"Librarian Nicodemus grows impatient. He see's... visions."

"Visions?" Sandalphon echoed. "What sort of visions?"

"Dreams. Echoes of a future. It has much to do with our cousins, the Space Wolves. What the vision truly is, he does not understand. However, he has seen a trickle of the past as well. He see's you, in battle against the word bearers."

"Then he must know my loss." Sandalphon echoed almost sadly.

"Indeed he does. But what puzzles him is that amongst you and your companions during the battle is a warrior an armor as black as the night itself. A warrior that never fought, yet speaks. Speaks as though he is not present."

"Humph. That's not helpful." Sandalphon replied as he kept his watching of the stars. "Have you asked Nicodemus what he feels these visions represent?"

"He mentioned the past and the present form together, by the Emperor's grace and power, after a wound most critical, will his lord perform his great miracle. Sounds like some type of riddle."

"Or prophecy." Sandalphon nodded. "I will speak to Nicodemus when the time comes."

"Very well Commander." The sergeant nodded.

"What of our other brothers? Are they well?"

"Apothecary Paul awaits your command. Our other brothers are eager for battle."

"Well then, why not perform a good deed for a day?" Sandalphon asked as he turned to Ullr. "Hail Captain."

"Don't call me that." Ullr replied as he sat up. "What do you want?"

"So tell me, do we have any duties to perform?"

"Actually, YOU do." Fraken replied. "Our astropaths have received a message that you are to return to the planet, and await the arrival of your brothers. We are to immediately depart for a civilized world known as "Oedipus", currently under siege by Orks. The 12th Jocasta regiment was sent to deal with the issue. They had been handling it quite well, but I just received word that multiple Ork invasion forces are now reinforcing the original horde that had first landed. Chances are, we'll be needed."

"Did you just say 12th Jocasta regiment?" Sandalphon asked.

"Yeah, why does it matter?" Fraken replied in a surly manner. "One of your captains just told me to tell you about his explicit orders on remaining on this rock."

"If it's the 12th Jocasta regiment, I am coming with you." Sandalphon replied firmly. "Emperor be praised."

"Brother, you can't be serious. Captain Belarius will have your head if you disobey his orders." The sergeant said as he looked up.

"You, be quiet and round up all our brothers." Sandalphon replied. "I leave you in charge as I depart with the wolves."

"Commander, this cannot be a serious request!" Sergeant Candid replied.

"Do as I say." Sandalphon replied. "This is of a personal matter to me. You all go down to the planet, I will depart with the wolves."

"I cannot in good conscience obey this order or allow you to commit such foolishness!" The sergeant continued. "Captain Belarius may not even be the worst thing if *that* chaplain finds out what you did."

"Look, I am not going to stand here and argue. This is not a discussion. You will go down, and take command while I leave. Is that clear?"

"Well, you won't be leaving alone." A voice called from the entrance. "Commander."

"Paul?" The two arguing astartes asked in unison at the sight of the apothecary.

"I will accompany you." The apothecary said as he entered the bridge. "I understand your qualms, I was there. And I know how you felt, and how even you may feel as of now. Perhaps it is not the correct decision, but I will still follow. After all Commander, what good is a brotherhood of over one hundred years if we aren't even willing to aid one another?"

"Paul! You can't be serious! You'll be disobeying a direct order from..."

"I will go with you too." The voice of Nicodemus echoed within the bridge. "Brothers, I suspect that my dream may be linked with Sandalphon. Wherever he goes, it will be my duty as a librarian to investigate."

"This is... this is madness!" Candid said as he watched Sandalphon nod at Nicodemus and Paul.

"Shut up and get yourself to the planet's surface. We're going to be leaving soon anyways." Ullr called. "Good thing we have room for three extra on board."

Candid stormed out, furious as Sandalphon looked to Paul and Nicodemus who both nodded back.

"So tell me brother, what do you expect to gain from our "investigation?" Paul asked as he took a seat.

* * *

><p>"The Orks invite themselves like flies to a carcass." The Sorcerer mused as he sat besides his lord in ebon. "The more, the merrier."<p>

The warrior in black said nothing as he stared at the projection. Covered in a plate of all black, one wondered where the lord was from. Rarely, did he ever speak. But whatever power he held, must have been great if a member of the thousand sons was willing to work with him. Aside from those two, the horde of chaos space marines was a motley one. Under the banner of undivided chaos, the hundreds of chaos space marines had commonly worked as pirates, raiding unsuspecting merchants for essentials, tools and human prisoners. As of today, they would sack a planet. Something that wasn't a new experience. As usual, the entire warband was unaware of their leader's motives. Not that it was much of a surprise anyways, when no one even knew the lord's name. Save for Vortigan, the sorcerer who whispered machinations into his lord's ear just as his lord filled the brutal minds of his men with images of slaughter and pillaging.

"So my lord, what to do, what to do?" The sorcerer asked rhetorically as he continued musing. "Oh surely you have your own master plan thought out by now. What need do you have for me besides from lending you my power? And of course, when the time comes, your promises of wealth, power and revenge will come true? Surely they will. Of course they will. We've planned far too long for any of us to fail."

The lord said nothing. Only focused an thousand yard state at the projection. The arcane runes stretched in his armor told stories, intricately made by a skilled artisan , while his almost majestically flowing cape spoke of a warrior with excellent tastes yet for some reason seldom spoke. The massive blade he held in his hands was testament to the victims he butchered. Yet as of now, he remained more passive than a sleeping kitten, almost bored.

"When do we make our move?" The sorcerer asked furthermore as his lord stood up. His master had a good few inches over him, adding on to the already menacing air that shrouded the lord.

"When the time is right." The lord replied. "I am certain you have your curious studies to explore, while I have my own childish dreams to pursue."

"I see you are in the mood for conversation. Excellent! Now then, what do you intend? Perhaps we can kill these whelps and offer them to the gods?"

"Allow the Orks to dance to our tune. They swarm to Oedipus like vultures to a kill. When they bask and crow in their victory, we will strike and obliterate all of them. But, Vortigan, I simply didn't come here just to murder the puppets of the Emperor and some degenerate green-skins."

"Of course not. There is always something that interests the Ebon Lord. I suspect it is an artifact of some sorts?"

"A map, nothing more."

"I see, a map to relics?"

"A map which we will burn."

"Pity. Why?"

"Because the relics aren't for us." The lord replied as he sat down. "Now then Vortigan leave me. I believe it's time I entertained myself with the minds of others."

"As you wish milord, perhaps with my aid as usual?"

"I can do it myself." The lord answered. When the door was closed, the man underneath made sure to lock it. Removing his helmet, the Space Marine looked into the mirror. A man of almost a divinely handsome appearance looked back. The mirror soon began to shimmer, as the rites began.

* * *

><p>With a gasp, Eisheth felt herself being thrown out of her slumber. Sweat adorned her forehead as she gave deep gasps, much to the annoyance of Freya who looked up at her friend.<p>

"Same dream?"

"Same dream." Eisheth replied she wrapped herself up tightly in her blankets. Her hand reached for blade, and she held it as a miser would hold his last coin. How Eisheth found hugging a sword to be comforting in anyway, it was mystery to Freya. She didn't comment, just watch as her long-time friend broke into cold sweat.

It had been three years. Eisheth should have let it go by now. Yet those three years had came with the same haunting dream. Her friend, Zeerzahlbahl and his death. Every time.

She should have let it go by now. She should have. What difference could it have made? Even if he had survived, the Word Bearers would have gotten their hands on an artifact of chaos that would have meant doom for many citizens of the Imperium.

Zeerzalbahl. His name was like a forgotten comfort that she whispered herself to every day. The images of the giant of a man, flawless in appearance and character who would always comfort her. She remembered how years ago, when she served with a member of the inquisition.

She may have been a witch, a psyker who was inherently safer to be around, but that never stopped anyone from seeing her nothing less than a mutant. Many avoided her, others refused to associate with her. Worse yet, the less scrupulous men commonly made lewd gestures, and perhaps the worst thing about everything was how the Dark Angels, the ones she worked among the most treated her as though she was a liability. They were Space Marines weren't they? Defenders of humanity? How could they be so apathetic at the deaths of others?

But as time went on, she remembered those she had met among the monotonous and unfeeling men. She recalled Apothecary Paul, the seasoned marine with a kindly face. Who always valued the lives of his patients, who refused to let anyone die if he could help it. Paul, who treated everyone with the kindness of a healing hand. It was Paul who had saved Eisheth from the shadow of death, and it was Paul who had saved countless others.

And then there was Sandalphon. The sergeant who was her first friend among the Dark Angels. Perhaps "Friend" was the wrong word, maybe "acquaintance". Yet he was a man of great integrity who stood for what he believed in. Eisheth recalled many times about how many of the officials within the Inquisition stated that Zeerzalbahl should have just followed orders and lived, rather than "meaninglessly" sacrifice his life. How anyone could act that way towards a fallen hero, was a mystery to her.

Her mind turned once more. The dreamy nights she commonly had when she thought of him. The way he sometimes held her when she was upset. An astartes, who though had a second heart, still retained an empathetic one. She remembered many things about him. He was handsome for the most part, and was very respectful to any common man. Yet there was something wild in him, something that put him at odds with his elder brother Sandalphon.

The thoughts of the dreamy nights returned. How sometimes, the pair would even bed together in the many chambers of Inquisitor Lawrence's personal vessel. How she had once whispered child-like vows and wishes to him. The Astartes never returned any affection. He never could. Only gave out pieces of his care to her.

What had tormented Eisheth the most after these many years was never the fact that Zeerzalbahl had died. It was that she never knew how he felt about her. Perhaps, did he feel the same toward her? Wishing to court her despite the severe rules of his chapter? Or did he only see her the same as how a gardener only wanted his plants to be healthy, never truly loving them on any scale?

She wondered. Spent many nights doing so.

And she finally did find out. On the day of his death.

She would never forget the words he had whispered to her.

* * *

><p><strong>And once more, the author's mind we go.<strong>

**Sandalphon of course, has more or less a personal friendship with Eisheth. If it's not heavily obvious to what the "personal" reason Sandalphon may be.**

**Paul, like Sandalphon has a personal reason. The pair having served together for many years, and that Paul is obviously one of the people who kew what happened.**

**Nicodemus, the Librarian is going mainly due to his visions. **

**The cast so far: **

**The Dark Angel Characters that the story is going to revolve around (most likely) are**

**Sandalphon: The Force Commander**

**Paul: The Apothecary**

**Nicodemus: The Librarian**

**While the Space Wolves will revolve around**

**Tavish Tyr: The REALLY drunk guy**

**Ullr Fraken: The sober guy**

**Od: The newly inducted Grey Hunter. (Need to think of creative first/last name. And need to decide whether or not Od is his first or last name.) **

**The "regular" human characters are:**

**Erwin: The witch sniper. **

**Königin: Other witch sniper. AKA the skilled one.**

**Freya **

**And Eisheth. **

**Just as a sidenote: Are there any things that "stand out" in the writing? (I.e names. For example, "Paul" sort of sounds a bit ordinary when compared to Sandalphon, Nicodemus, Candid and Zeerzabahl, which is why I actually considered naming him "Saul". Or in the dialogue? Freya and Eisheth tend to speak "normally", while the idea is to have Tavish speak in a scottish accent. Ullr, talks normally while is the Dark Angel dialogue "flowery" enough? **


	4. Chapter 4

_They're everywhere! Orks have overrun the entire eastern outskirts!_

_Multiple Ork sightings on the west! They've surrounded the place! They're coming straight for us!_

_Can't hold them off. Have to pull back. _

"The situation as worsened." General Hughes commented as he watched greentide meet with yet another wave. "We have two confirmations of Ork landings bringing in massive waves of reinforcements. Our left flank is beginning to collapse, and our main force has been pushed back."

"Pity. I sent several scout squads out just this morning." Commissar Mele shared as he watched the advancing green tide.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to retreat?"

"Retreat? Unthinkable! The 12th Jocasta regiment will not bear the name of cowards! Never underneath my watch!" Mele replied almost angrily. "We will fight to the last man to stop these damn greenskins from taking this planet!"

"Commissar. Do not mistake my words for a craven excuse for a shameless abandon. However, this world bears little use for the Imperium."

"The tithes it pays and the souls that dwell upon it are not simply "little use"!" Mele rasped angrily. "A spent life and a wasted life are two different things General! And never make me believe for a single instant you may take the second route to solve your problems!"

"The situation will be contained Commissar. I have no intention of abandoning this world. We will fight, be it we slaughter the Orks, or the Orks slaughter us."

"That's the General Hughes I know." Mele said as his anger faded and a small grin spread to his lips. "I believe I was voxed by Erwin and Königin that they are scouting out the Ork reserve forces. I was also voxed earlier by Freya and Eisheth that they have pushed deep into Ork territory. If I know the men and women in our regiment well, Eisheth has intents on finishing what she started."

"Clever. Once the warboss is killed, these Orks will be left fighting amongst themselves."

"Aye. I knew Eisheth would be an excellent addition to this unit the moment I picked her." Mele replied. "Now then, should I establish vox contact on their progress?"

"Do as you please Commissar. I have my own communications to attend to."

* * *

><p>"Okay. So you feel like fighting a few hundred Orks?" Freya asked as she inspected her combat knife. Maybe the plasma rifle would be better in this situation.<p>

"How about we not? How about we try to get as close as possible, and if it's possible, you take the shot on Gitstompa?"

"Why not you? You nearly killed him two days ago."

"I had a rocket launcher to go with that. A laser through the skull should do the job just fine. Besides, he can live without an arm, he certainly can't live without a brain."

"Well, you got any good places to shoot from? Going into that Ork den will be the same as us walking into the mouth of a thunderwolf."

"I am obviously not expecting us to somehow beat a few hundred Orks, there's gotta be another way. Because right now, I can't find any good places. Look, bad news, I can't find any good places actually. Looks like Gitstompa was smart and decided to find a place where he can't be picked off by sniper fire."

"That's bad news indeed. So... what do we do? Can we flush him out?"

"With what? The non-existent artillery batteries we have? Air support isn't going to go as much as a mile radius of his hole without being blasted out of the skies and..."

The vox chatter buzzed cutting Eisheth off. It was Mele.

"Freya, Eisheth, I hope you two BETTER BE DOING SOME USEFUL RIGHT NOW." Mele's impatient voice called from the other side of the vox.

"We are sir. We are attempting to find a means of eliminating warboss Gitstompa."

"Very well then. Because in case you two lost urchins didn't know, the Orks have now overrun all our flanks. The entire regiment is under threat of being totally overrun. If you don't kill Gitstompa fast, I promise you that there won't be any place to retreat to. I am also here to tell you that you are on your own."

"What? Commissar, we are in the heart of the Ork held territory. Can you at least spare air support? Or maybe the few..."

"I told you Eisheth. There are no armor units left to support you. The few Valkyries we have will be shot down in moments if we as much as get close. You are on your own. Fear not children, The Emperor will guide you. Mele out."

"Well... um..."

"Okay." Freya said with a pause. "Okay. Just fantastic."

"Actually... no. Look!" Eisheth smiled as she handed her friend the binoculars.

"Gitstompa is leaving?"

"Not leaving. He's going to personally lead." Eisheth said as she saw the warboss with relatively few orks by his side. There was a problem though.

"Might as well. This is the only chance we'll have. You think we can take him?" Freya asked as she readied her plasma rifle. "And his guards?"

"We have to. It's the only way we can win this now that the Orks have just stepped up their game."

* * *

><p>When he severed the line, that was when Mele finally allowed himself to take a breather. Eisheth and Freya had penetrated the heart of Ork territory and were likely to be infiltrating the very core of Gitstompa's army. He would allow himself a hidden smile, but he knew this was not possible given the circumstances. As he was speaking, two of the most valuable members in the entire regiment were now deep in xenos-held territory.<p>

He sat down inside his cabin. The one which had been constructed for him when the regiment landed, so he could find a place to organize things. A cruel joke if anything. All the papers that he needed to finish were stacked high on the desk and random writing utensils found themselves strewn about on the floor. There was only one thing his cabin could do for his nerves, which was the bottle of whiskey he kept in his drawer. Taking it out, the commissar allowed himself a gulp for his nerves.

How many years of this hell until retirement? Five? Ten? Twenty? Of all the jobs a son of an affluent family, why did it have to be a commissar of all things? Why not something like the governor of a idyllic garden world or another pencil-pusher behind a desk? Why this? Just of all the things he could have been, why a commissar?

It was bad luck. That's what it was. Mele was devoted enough to his Emperor that by no means, his most benevolent would ever sentence him to this kind of torment. It just happened to be that they needed commissars, so when his family had sent him to an imperial guard academy, he landed right into the commissary school. There, Mele was trained to scream himself hoarse, shoot his own men, and wear the most uncomfortable uniform in the history of man, with that same stupid hat that always got in the way.

He hated everything about being a commissar. He hated having to shoot his own men. So instead, he reserved that fate for deserters. He resorted to beatings and salary dockings for issues that would make other commissars go trigger crazy. Instead of shooting some unfortunate soul to motivate the men, he made sure his boot would land on the worst offender's behind so that he'd get a move on.

If there were any saving graces to his job. It was his pay, and the future of retirement. He always sent the money to his wife and two children, who depended upon his salary as a commissar to simply make a living. And that was why, Mele's greatest shame was that he feared death. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of his family who depended on him. If he died, the compensation given to his family would last them only maybe two more years before they find themselves in abject poverty. That was why he hoped retirement would come soon. The retirement package would mean he would finally have enough money in his pocket to move to some idyllic garden world with his family, and never have to ever again worry about himself falling in combat, or his wife's constant worried letters.

His mind turned away to his family and to the men. He commonly lost sleep many years ago when he was junior commissar, when the faces of the men he had executed had begun to haunt him in his dreams. Mele soon decided never again would he ever shoot any of his own men for "encouragement". Today, Mele found himself typically aiming his foot for some timid soldier's rear instead of putting a hole in his head. The only time he ever had to execute someone in recent times was a month ago when two men were caught deserting. To Mele, most reasons the commissary had listed for executions were nothing more than excuses to waste lives. Such a hypocrisy in the eyes of Mele made him lose faith in both his work and what his work represented. Wasting lives. That was his job. To shoot his men.

His inward complaining about his own job would cease as he thought about Eisheth. The young girl that had joined up with them recently. Many things about how was a mystery. For one would be how she managed to get the Dark Angels to "gift" her one of their weapons. She never spoke about it, and for some damn reason, decide to sleep with the sword. Unless she had some odd fetish for slicing herself apart in her sleep, there was no explanation to why she did that.

Then there was Freya. She SAID she was from Fenris. Said so. But not even Mele knew how Freya got into a Jocasta regiment, which was on the other side of the galaxy in relation to Fenris. There wasn't much that was known about Freya, save for the fact that she had been doing her job for quite a long time now. The only other thing that Mele had picked up about Freya was that her mother was dead, and she had never met her father. Normally, Mele wouldn't give a damn about anyone else's life story. For some reason however, he commonly found himself thinking about Freya when he thought about his own family.

His thoughts would be interrupted when the sounds of a mortar shell hit just outside his cabin and the din of battle grew closer and closer and closer. He grabbed his kit and stormed right outside the cabin, looking the milling guardsman and at the steadily approaching green-tide.

"Where the hell is the general?!" The commissar spat out at the closest guardsman.

"We don't know! He's probably dead! We gotta retreat!"

"HOLD IT ALL RIGHT THERE YOU FOOLS. WE'RE NOT MOVING A SINGLE STEP." Mele roared. "I JUST GOT WORD FROM SEGMENTUM COMMAND THAT WE HAVE REINFORCEMENTS INCOMING. ARE WE GOING TO SHOW THEM THAT THE 12TH JOCASTA REGIMENT IS MADE OF COWARDS?!"

The panic stopped as anxious chatter began talking about reinforcements. It was then when Mele took a deep breath and began giving out orders. The orks were getting closer, but at least the guardsmen were picking themselves up.

Good thing they believed what he had said. As of now, Mele was praying that Freya and Eisheth would hurry up.

* * *

><p>"Milord, allow me to tell you a few things." Vortigan said as the sorcerer made his way to his lord's stateroom. "The Imperial Guard is almost finished. Those poor cretins are about to massacred by the orks."<p>

The warrior in black nodded.

"And that, um, some of our more, colorful members of our clique have decided they want in on the action. Should we allow them?"

The ebon warrior thought about this for a moment. An armored gauntlet stroked at the bottom of his helmet before he came to his decision.

"Allow them. Tell everyone else that we will commence in the mining operations. Our crazed brothers can provide us the necessary cover."

"Very well."

* * *

><p>"Oi! It's dat humie! Dat sniky little humie that took me arm!" Gitstompa shouted at the sight of Eisheth. "RIP 'ER ARMS OFF."<p>

The small group of Orks at Gitstompa's sight charged in the direction of Eisheth. But most of them never even got within a few meters of Eisheth before getting picked off by the sniper fire.

"What's wrong?!" Freya laughed as she jumped down from her hiding spot, plasma rifle at the ready. "Needed a HAND to beat us?"

"Youse thinks youse funny?! I'll crush both of ya little humies and take yer pretty skullz!"

"Then come get some." Eisheth replied as she drew her sword. The lethal corona flared and prepared itself as the Ork warboss charged them. The sounds of Freya turning around would mean there were more Orks. And that Eisheth would be on her own against this monster.

Eisheth had long faced enemies several times the size of her. The first time had been the Orks, then afterwards had been the Tyranids, and after that had been the word bearers. Only in the last time did Eisheth very truly learn some things that would help her for her entire life. One of which was that most an astartes in full-armor would be very hard-pressed to bend down. Hell, an astartes without armor would find it hard to bend down. This commonly meant that if there was one advantage that Eisheth had, it was the fact that they'd be hard pressed to hit her.

The Ork warboss was more or less the same deal. When the sweep of the powerklaw threatened to turn her body into a mess of blood and gore, Eisheth threw herself to the ground, feeling the passing wind as it even plucked a few hairs off of her. With a roar, she lunged for her larger opponent.

* * *

><p><em>"Come whelp, amuse me!" The laughing taunt of the Word Bearer called out as Eisheth slowly found the chainsword. Pain wracked her entire body, and cold sweat had burst all over her as she looked upon the giant in red, who's very armor spoke of the hateful dark gods. Anointed in the vile sorcery that was chaos, the astartes, once basking in the glow of a the Holy Emperor now reveled in the taint of his chaos gods.<br>__Eisheth looked at her surroundings for a moment. Deep in this trench was nothing more than just puddles of blood and the mangled corpses of friend and foe. Mostly friend. The few accounts of dead Word Bearers were from those who happened to neglect wearing a helmet, or being on the receiving end of enough ordinance to knock out tanks. __  
>"Some fight in you? Good!" The astartes laughed as he watched the psyker rise to her feet. Within the smokes of his corrupted mind, he thought of the various ways to kill the petty little mortal. Though he held much contempt for all the servants of the corpse-emperor, he couldn't help but a feel a small twinge of respect for the puny babe that had intentions to fight him. His respect was overshadowed with his mirth. The mirth that he felt at how the same puny babe would have intentions to fight him. <em>

_She bolted at him with the last of her strength. The sword swinging straight at him. What the pitiful creature never accounted for was how fast an astartes truly could move. Every sword swing was avoided with ease until her swings grew weaker and weaker. _

_Seeing that there was no point to continue this "fight" any further, the astartes simply stepped forward at the panting girl. And just took the sword right out of her grasp as though he was stealing candy from a baby. The chaos gods were watching, it was time he put up a good show for them. __  
>It took him literally no effort to send her straight on her face. He hardly even tapped her, and that was all it caused for her to lose balance. Meekly, Eisheth tried to crawl away, only to have something heavy press down upon her back, causing her to gasp for air. <em>

_"I remember once how a faithful listener to Khorne once wanted the galaxy to drown in blood." The Word Bearer thought of as he dragged Eisheth slowly near one of the red puddles. "Perhaps you can see how it feels!" _

_Red flooded her senses. Just red. The liquid enveloped her, causing her to squirm and silently scream. Her limbs thrashed as much as they were allowed as she felt her strength leaving her. The laughter of the traitor echoed throughout her mind. As did the loud war scream that caused any fears of drowning in a blood pool to be replaced by fears of whatever it was that was coming. _

_The sounds of metal hitting metal reverberated from the trench, furthered by the cacophony of something being thrown into dirt. When Eisheth looked up, all she saw was something big and something green, pummeling the traitor. With every blow, came a word as the face of her assailant became little more than a bloody pulp. _

_What the words were, she never heard. All she saw was the Dark Angel turn his head to her. The snarl carved within the helmet was removed, replaced with a kind face._

_Eisheth had long believed that the next kind face she would have saw would have been the Emperor's. Thankfully, that was not to be as she felt herself being scooped up, and left along the marine's shoulder._

_"I... I... I can walk." Eisheth replied weakly._

_"It's fine." The Marine replied as they made their way through the hellscape. "Are you the only one?"_

_"Think so."_

_"Then you are safe now. I will take care of you." The marine replied. "My name is Zeerzahlbaal."_

_"Eisheth."_

* * *

><p>"So youse thinks youse so smart?!" Gitstompa asked as Eisheth once again managed to evade him. "Youse tinks you can win jus be dodging me?! Well humie' I got me shoota ya know!"<p>

Eisheth was fast. But not fast enough to dodge bolter rounds...

But that didn't matter. Because the sounds of an artillery strike began to the air.

Freya looked up from her position. Busily she been keeping the Orks off of Eisheth. Now, she looked up as the sky came crashing down upon her. Doing what any sensible person would do, she ran for the nearest place for cover.

Eisheth wouldn't exactly be so fortunate. The shell hit right close to her, instantly causing Gitstompa to disappear into a crater. But what happened to her was that she found herself getting knocked right off her feet, the world disappearing into a massive pit of black.

* * *

><p>"Alright lads. Here we are." Tavish said as he looked at the warriors in front of him. "Now then, Grimnar, bless his heart, thinks we can smash these Orks with just three of us. You see, now there's six of us. Which is actually good, because the wee amount of Orks actually became large when they got their reinforcements."<p>

"Now then lads. You see, we do things kinda differently." Tavish continued as he looked at his brothers and cousins. "Now, good ol' Ullr is gonna make planetfall... somehow. He never tells us how, though we don't ever find him using the Thunderhawks or the droppods. Beats me. Ah... I'd figure if I wasn't drunk."

"So... cut to the chase Tavish." Sandalphon said impatiently. "How do we get down there?"

"We got the Thunderhawk ready, and now go grab your jump packs. Intel suggests AA is gonna rip us to ribbons if we get close." Od nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

Marnamai stood atop the hill, cloaked in layers of a brass-colored armor as behind him, two-score of Khorne's favored waited behind him. The sight of battle had already appealed to the crazed, and now they were likely to simply break ranks just to have at the blood. That was something that Marnamai found to be irritating when a minor plan was botched up, or frustrating enough to cleave the offending beserker's head for a lack of a functioning brain. As of now, the helmet, with the top decorated by a long plume of hairs off of various beasts Marnamai had personally slain.

"Where is the blood we were promised?!" Someone over the vox cried out impatiently.

"You'll have it. Be patient lest it may not be the type of blood you want to see spilled!" Marnamai snarled back over the vox. Like the madmen he commonly led, Marnamai was a champion of Khorne. A dedicated servant of the blood god, and a terrifyingly efficient killer.

Being the latter was what prided Marnamai the most. The champion of Khorne was one who hadn't undertaken the butcher nails, a decision he found benefiting since he had long learned from experience that many of his fellow compatriots had inabilities to as much as make a common plan other than rush madly at the enemy. Perhaps this worked. An astartes' power armor offered excellent protection, and the majority of weapons that the beserkers faced might as well as be ping pong balls being flung at them.

Then, there were the beserkers who thought charging heavy bolters was a good idea.

As Marnamai gave the order to attack the Orks, his memories once more flared to a time many ages ago. When legend had it, that the warrior of the blood god had once pursued an Eldar for eight days and eight nights across the surface of a planet in order to take it's skull. Khorne had grown to be so amused by Marnamai's tenacity that the blood god had stepped forth to give his servant a hand.

Marnamai's shield was unlike his brass-colored armor. It was purely, jet black, looked almost as though it had been carved out of the earth. Carved into it was an icon of the human skull. A gift from Khorne, Marnamai used his weapon well. The Blood God had decreed that if Marnamai intended to spill blood, he never again would have to run eight days to simply catch it. At the whim of it's user, Marnamai's shield would lash out chains of torment to catch any cowards who were unwilling to face the champion of the blood god.

It didn't stop there of course. For Lord Khorne knew well how to reward his champions so that they caused even more blood to flow. Some men... or in this case, some gods just wanted to see the galaxy burn. As such, Khorne had also graced the Marnamai's shield to be able to send forth torrents of warp-flame at the whim of it's master. This was of course, something Marnamai knew to use sparingly, Lord Khorne would not look upon him favorably if all he did was run around with a fire-spewing weapon like a craven soldier who was unwilling to duel other champions.

In this case however, Khorne would probably not mind him sending gushes of flame at hundreds of Orks. The carnage was simply pure delight for Marnamai as the stench of burning flesh filled the air and the screams of dying met his ears. His beserkers shared similar sentiments, as chainaxes separated heads from necks. The long stretching chain was able to lash onto several fleeing grots, sending the pathetic creature right into the waiting blades of Khorne's favored.

"Leave the big one to me!" Marnamai ordered above the din. Beserkers, crazed as they were, did have sense of honor to some extent. It meant well for them in the eyes of their lord to offer the skulls of a worthy foe. The Nob that was still alive would make for a good fight.

"Alright youse chaos boyz! You wantz to fight?! Youse gotta fight!"

Ignoring the comments from the Nob, Marnamai just gave a salute to his foe before charging him like a mad-man. The Nob, a massive creature with an aptitude for beserking as much as the servants of the blood god, gave a roar and charged at him. Any other ork or chaos space marine caught in the way would be trampled into blood pulps.

* * *

><p>"Well I say, you put up a jolly good, if not messy show old boy." Vortigan commented to Marnamai who came back with a certain Nob's head right on a wooden stake. "I am certain the lord will be pleased with your performance."<p>

"He promised me blood, I promised him my service. As long as this is, he can have all the good performances he wants." Marnamai replied as he licked blood off of some portions of his war-helm. "What are we digging for?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, warlock. What in the name of the warp are you digging for?" Marnamai asked as his eyes narrowed. Many people had debated what was more fearsome. The massive astartes in artificer armor WITH the helmet on. Or without. Marnamai on appearance without was everything that would be expected from a warrior of his stature. The most defining trait he had was the massive scar below his eye, which he had gotten from a certain Eldar. |

"Well alright. Seeing as though you aren't as dull as the rest of your band. We're looking for a map."

"A map?" Marnamai echoed. "A map. You are looking for a map."

"We are looking for a map. Yes. A map." Vortigan replied as he stared straight back into the champion of the blood god.

"Do you take me for a fool?"

"No, of course not... brother." Vortigan replied as he removed his own helmet. What was hidden underneath was something that even caused Marnamai to take a step back. "We all have our secrets... brother. But I assure you, if the Lord is digging for treasure, loot, plunder, or any other spoils that may interest you. I promise, you will have your fair share. If it is favor you believe he is seeking from our patron gods, rest assured, keep doing as to what you are doing, and you will have it as well."

"You're not from the Thousand Sons are you?" Marnamai asked as he looked at the brown haired man with the goatee.

"We all have our secrets... brother." Vortigan replied as he walked away. "It's all for me to know, and you, to perhaps never find out."

* * *

><p>"Sir! The orks!" A guardsman cried from over the din. "They're pulling back!"<p>

"Scouts have reported something to be hitting the orks from the rear and the flanks! Looks like the reinforcements are here!" Another guardsman cried happily.

"Reinforcements..." Someone began. "Well, I'll be damned."

"We're saved sir! We're saved!"

Something was wrong. Something was dead wrong. Instead of the joy that Mele should have felt along with the several hundred or so guardsmen that were still alive, he felt nothing but dread. If reinforcements had come, why hadn't anyone voxed in? Did some surviving stragglers somehow manage to pull together and strike at the rear of the Orks? He didn't know. And it was the unknown, that commonly made Mele uneasy.

"Scout units. What do you see? What's hitting the Orks?" Mele voxed as he watched the Orks all suddenly retreat. It wasn't like Orks to run away from a fight they were winning. Whatever they were running to, it had to be pretty damn important for them to all of a sudden drop what they were doing.

"Can't tell sir. What we can tell is that whatever it is, it punched a hole in the Ork lines. We also have unconfirmed reports that warboss Gitstompa has been killed."

"What of Freya and Eisheth?"

"Nothing." Erwin replied from the other end. "But don't worry sir, I am certain that they're the ones who probably killed Gitstompa. "I'll dig in for more details. Erwin out."

* * *

><p>"Wait a second. You cannot all be serious!" Nicodemus objected indignantly as he found out how he was making his way down to the surface. "Surely you don't intend to place me in a thunderhawk full of strangers!"<p>

"Just stick with the plan brother." Sandalphon replied as he prepped a jumppack. "The Space Wolves are not strangers, brother."

"Surely you don't intend to place me into a thunderhawk of savages and drunkards!"

"OI! I HEARD THAT LADDIE! WHEN THIS BATTLE IS OVER, I'LL KICK YOUR ARSE SO HARD YE'LL HAVE A TWICE!"

"Point proven." Nicodemus said with an eye-roll.

"Just go with the plan brother." Sandalphon replied in his own exasperated tone. "Just think of how many Orks you'll get to kill."

The blaring of the alarm signaled Sandalphon to his Thunderhawk, leaving Nicodemus at the mercy of the Space Wolves, much to the librarian's discomfort. The plan to reach the ground was quite complicated if anything. Two Thunderhawks and one drop pod. One Thunderhawk would land the astartes into one section of the battle, another would fly at an altitude, and then have it's occupants jump out, and the drop pod would be sent a few clicks away from the action. The three would make a three-pronged assault into the ork lines, with Ullr Fraken somehow making his way down despite not being included in any of the rosters.

To most people, it was quite obvious to why Nicodemus would be so uncomfortable within his assigned Thunderhawk. Being packed with about ten Space Wolves was one thing. Most of them smelled like what they had been drinking the night before. What probably would make no one ever want to get into a Thunderhawk with the Sons of Russ was the fact it was jam packed with their dogs of war. The fearsome Fenrisian wolves who the sons of Russ had trained to tear their prey apart in seconds. At the sight of the unfamiliar new creature in their transport, the wolves instantly began to growl and snarl at the librarian. The handler, prudently and firmly tugged the leashes, ensuring that the Librarian would not be hamburger meat.

Taking a deep breath, Sandalphon thanked the Emperor that this would only be a few moments. As Space Wolf tradition had it within this force, as the Thunderhawk took off, the most veteran wolf aboard opened the box in the corner. The strong smell of mead filling the entire Thunderhawk.

"You first, friend." The Space Wolf said as he shoved the large bottle right into Nicodemus' hand.

* * *

><p>Freya woke up. Painfully.<p>

She didn't know too much what was going on, save for the fact that there was fighting going on. She had seen Gitstompa disappear inside the explosion, so it was likely that the orks were now fighting over who got to be boss. If that was the case, this would be an excellent time to scurry away. But as she looked up to see what the orks really were fighting, any senses of relief vanished as she felt as though she was about to piss herself.

The roaring of chainaxes cutting through flesh mixed in with the crazed screams of the blood god mixed in with the orks' equally zealous roar was not good news for her. Getting up, she saw the massive form of a Khornate Beserker smashing into an Ork, sending blood and guts flying everywhere. The crowd of orks gathered around him fell like ninepins as he sent their brutalized forms flying everywhere.

Cautiously, Freya got up. Finding that she was not in any major forms of pain, she decided to chance it and run for it.

"YES! FLEE BEFORE ME! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD!"

At the sound of the scream out of hell, the girl began to run at a pace she never knew was possible by herself. The beserker laughed madly, running after his prey like how a nightmare ran after the sleeping. Freya looked back as her heart threatened to crawl out of her throat. With a sob, she continued sprinting until she made it an alleyway where she climbed over the rubble. The beserker simply burst through, but without enough delay for Freya to duck into one of the houses. Seeing nothing but a counter, she hid right behind it. Curling into a ball, the girl gave a whimper as she realized what exactly was coming. Something that had made warboss Gitstompa seem like a baby puppy.

The beserker had already found her. Even without his helmet's optical systems telling him exactly where a terrified girl hid, he could have smelled her fear from a mile away. His fury calmed to a slow pace as he imagined how he was going to tear her limb from limb. A bit of boredom hit him as he realized it was unlikely his opponent would strike back. Such a shame, Khorne would have very much favored a more capable opponent over a terrified brat.

Calling upon the warp, and her limited abilities, Freya looked at her hands. The small flicker of a flame grew. She waited as he neared.

"There you are... ARRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!"

His scream cut their air as the ball of flame struck him right in the face, searing flesh and helm alike as Freya dashed out of the window. The attack was but a temporary respite to allow her for a flight. But out of the frying pan and right in the fire, as when she turned the corner, she found herself looking at an entire squad of astartes. Not the type she'd ever hope to see, but the type wearing chaos symbols carved into their armor. The leader looked at her for a split second.

"Gut her."

She tried to run. But all she did was trip and fall right onto her back. She looked at the leering fiends, eager to tear her to shreds. She gave a small whimper and a prayer, hoping her death would be quick.

Sometimes, miracles would be made by the Emperor. Especially when he decided someone wouldn't die.

The crack of the sniper rifle shot tore off the head of the closest marine. The traitors, who were formerly concerned with doing their worst to Freya now looked up with confused glances at what was going on. Another shot felled someone behind them. The two of traitors turned around to see the dead berserker.

"I'll do you both dogs a favor, and make this quick!" The cloaked Space Wolf snarled as the power axe flew at blinding speeds and buried itself deep into the skull of one of the chaos space marines. The other one however, was prepared as he ducked down from the axe.

"You missed!" He taunted.

"The funny thing about death pig. It's that it'll always come for your back."

Those were the last words the traitor ever heard as the swishing of the axe came right back, and buried itself deep inside his back.

Ullr looked over at the girl on the ground. Retrieving his two axes, his hands wrapped around her as he stood her upright.

"Thank you." Freya said as she looked him in the eyes.

The Space Marine's eyes opened to speak, but was unable to find words as he looked straight at Freya. His mouth closed for a moment as he began to stare at her, as though wandering through a dream.

"S..sir?" Freya asked as Ullr continued to stare at her in a strange way. "A..are you okay? You looked like you see a ghost."

"I may just have." Ullr said as he clenched his teeth. "What's your name child?"

"Freya. Freya Wuldor."

The astartes turned pale for a moment and almost seemed to stop functioning for a few seconds.

"We must get going. Where are the rest of your friends?"

"I... I was looking for my friend actually. I lost her in the..."

"Right answer, wrong question. Where is the rest of the Imperial Guard here?"

" way." Freya replied.

"Good. We make our way there."

"Bu..."

"No buts, Freya come with me." Ullr said as he said her name once more.

_Freya._

"Are... are there more of you sir?"

"Yes. But I disabled my vox channel. The fool I am for doing so."

"Why is that?"

"Because I need to warn them right now."

"Warn them what?"

"That the arch-enemy is here." Ullr said as he looked at the grisly remnants of a chaos space marine attack. "Fortunately for us at least, I am not so foolish when it comes to route planning. We should not encounter any of those treacherous turncoats. Freya. Where are you from?"

"Fenris." Freya replied as she looked at Ullr, expecting him to have a greater reaction that just nodding as though he knew what she was about to say. "You're a space wolf."

"Yes."

"I never knew I'd ever meet a Space Marine."

"You had in the past. You just weren't aware of it."

"Huh? I mean, I had seen plenty of them in parades. But never up close, never even conversing with one! It's a real honor."

"The honor is mine." Ullr said one last time before growing ever more silent. "The honor, is all mine."

* * *

><p><strong>If anyone is wondering why one of the Thunderhawks doesn't land, think "Space Marine" the video game and the first thing Tidus does in game. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Eisheth was confused to what had gone on. But when her eyes snapped open, the panic struck her harder than even the foot of a titan as she looked at her current position. The weight upon her body was all she needed to know that she was trapped underneath rubble. The position it held her in was just enough to restrain her, but just not enough to crush her body entire bloody ribbons. The only things she remembered was how Gitstompa had been killed by the artillery strike, and that Freya had ran a good distance before almost getting struck by a shell.

Calling to the warp and the Emperor for aid, she gave the rocks a mighty heave. They budged slightly, which gave Eisheth a mental pat on the back as she continued to push. The effort it took was almost painful, but when she was done, Eisheth had nothing to show except labored breaths and a lifted spirit. As her senses came back to her, the sounds of bolter discharges and screaming told her that the battle was still in the midst. Finding her sword, Eisheth readied herself as she took a sip of the last of her water in her canteen. Finding everything in relative standing order, the girl turned the corner to find bodies upon bodies. Orks. Something had torn through here. Something had. A closer scrutiny would reveal that it wasn't artillery fire that killed these Orks, but some form of chain weapon. With a small hint of hope, Eisheth wondered if Commissar Mele was able to get his men together, making sure to reserve a piece of her mind for whomever it was in charge of artillery.

Wait a second... they got artillery? That must have meant reinforcements arrived! Almost joyfully, she ran towards where she believed was the right place. Right around the corner.

The moment she turned the corner, her senses told her something was wrong. Something was dead wrong. Because pointing it's back right at her, was something big and something red.

Normally, when someone saw an astartes, they'd be quite happy at the rare sight.  
>This was certainly not the case. It soon came to Eisheth that this city, was now a maze. A wrong turn would end in her death.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"This one isn't a Word Bearer. Or rather, wasn't." Zeerzahlbaal smiled mirthlessly as he looked at the dead World Eater.<em>

_"What's the difference?"_

_"They're mercenaries. The Word Bearers promised that there'd be a fight, and looks like that's exactly what they got. They came here for blood, but we made sure it wasn't the type of blood they wanted."_

_"No, I mean. What's the difference? They're all traitors. This one just seemed a bit more crazier than the rest."_

_"That's the thing about berserkers. Whatever little semblance of normality amongst the traitors is lost upon them. Let this be a lesson to anyone that the Dark Gods should not be the deities you follow. They're madness incarnate."_

_"I agree. It's like just listening to them will make you crazy." Eisheth babbled, trying to sound knowledgeable on the topic. "Especially Kho..."_

_"Speak of the devil and he'll come to you. Best not say their names. Just because you can't hear them doesn't mean other people can't."_

_"Right. Sorry." _

_"No need to apologize." The Dark Angel replied as Eisheth found a place to rest atop the crates of ammunition the pair had been using. The berserker had been a tough beast to bring down. Had it not been for Eisheth, the rampaging warrior may have gotten the better of Zeerzahlbaal. Emperor forbid. The marks of the chainsword teeth were testament to the fact that even an extra novice with a chainsword can be more than enough to bring down some of the most fearsome warriors of chaos. _

_"You handled yourself well." Zeerzahlbaal commented as he watched Eisheth chug down her canteen. "Tired?"_

_"Very. When do supplies get here?" Eisheth asked as she looked at the empty boxes that once contained food._

_"Here, it's going to taste like toothpaste, but it's all I can give you." The astartes offered as he broke off a piece of his nutrient bar and handed it to her. To be fair, the nutrient bars weren't THAT bad. They had the flavor of salted porridge, but the texture of it felt like one was eating extra solidified-toothpaste. Not a very pleasant flavor to aspire to, but dense in calories and nutrients, it was something that a space marine could munch off in the short moments before a battle._

_"Thank you." Eisheth said as she chewed the bar. "When do our reinforcements arrive?"_

_"Soon. I promise you, we'll get out of here. By Caliban, I swear it." _

* * *

><p>"I'll be leaving you here." Ullr said as he looked almost hesitantly at Freya who had just gotten to her feet.<p>

"Wait... what?!" The girl protested as she frantically looked around. They had made much progress through the city, but were more than just a fair distance from outside to where the Imperial Guard lines had last been located.

"Do not worry. I expect you to make it out. My sources have told me that your path is clear." Fraken explained as he drew his axe and rubbed the blade. "Go. I will take care of the traitors."

"But..."

"It is safe. Do as I command child, and you have my word that no harm will come of you." Ullr said coldly. Every last word he spoke regarding sending the blond girl away was like chewing on a rock. "Go."

Freya took a few steps away as she hesitantly looked back. Somewhere, in the locations of one of his two hearts, Ullr could not help but feel something lead had buried itself down. Finally, Freya stopped looking back at him and turned around fully. The next time she glanced over her shoulder, the only thing present would be the whispering wind.

_I am sorry._

* * *

><p>Marnamai looked at the warlock, eyes deep entrenched with distrust and suspicion. The devil was up to something. Without his helmet, Vortigan's presence pulsed out even more waves of malevolence despite bearing the appearance of a mostly normal astartes. What he was, did not match with what he looked like. A Thousand Son? Not merged together with his armor? But bearing flesh and blood? That could not have been possible. And what Marnamai and his patron lord did not comprehend, was typically on the list of things that they were at best, vexed by it. At worst, they would try to smash it into pieces.<p>

"So tell me good sir, don't you have any better things to do than watch a good wizard perform his deeds?" Vortigan asked as he continued staring into the warp. Nearby, a slave left him a massive bowl of tea followed by an entire tray of various pastries, all to the Chaos Space Marine's refined tastes. Daintily taking one of the treats, the sorcerer took a bite, savoring every last bit of the sweet flavor before drinking in the tea in a satisfying gulp.

"If there was, I wouldn't be watching him eat... whatever it is he is eating." Marnamai retorted as he sat down. "No blood to spill makes my men restless, while you fiddle away with your puzzles and riddles. I joined this warband to have my share of the battle."

"Which you have gotten." Vortigan smiled as he grabbed another one of the pastries, devouring it will a satisfying smack of his lips. "Come now my friend, why don't you join me for tea time while I deci..."

"I am not your friend warlock. Keep that in mind. We are partners, Khorne forbid allies. Partners."

"That's the problem with you Khornates. You never see the big picture."

"I see the big picture. Your lord wants more than just some backwater world. He's looking for something isn't he? He mentioned a map."

"Aye. A map. It'll do our enemies much harm if we were to destroy it. There are other things he is looking for though?"

"What then? A battle? The Orks have offered only moderate challenge. The weaklings in the guard will be smashed in no time once my men are done with them. There was no challenge, save for perhaps a lone warboss which was killed in one of our artillery strikes. Pity. But I digress, what is he looking for? Plunder? There is none to be had in this beggar's planet. Power? Exactly what sort of secrets would this place hold? Nothing of value."

"That's where you're wrong. This place has a secret. Doesn't help us, but it'll help us once we make sure it's lost to the ages." Vortigan smiled as he grabbed another pastry, examining it carefully as though he had spotted something wrong. "Besides, he wants something. He's a sentimental chap... oh that reminds me. I spotted one."

Opening his hand, the sorcerer approached Marnamai as he showed him the image. Freya, sitting down for a moment, alone in the ruins of the city.

"Deliver this poor little bird to the lord. Alive, and preferably unharmed. If she's not the right one, I suppose he'll allow you to do whatever you please. Just make sure to do it where the mess won't affect my appetite. Speaking of which."

Vortigan turned to the slave.

"Which one of my culinarian's made these?" Vortigan asked as he showed the slave the tea-cake.

"Um... I don't... I don't know his name! But I know what he looks like!" The slave babbled nervously.

"Good. Then kill him."

"Wh...bu..."

"Here old boy. Get creative." Voritgan replied as he handed the slave a wickedly curved knife.

* * *

><p>Freya decided now was an ideal time to take a break. Sitting down, she could already see the hills and trenches where the Imperial Guard had dug in when the Orks first landed. Giving a happy laugh of joy, she began making a dash for it.<p>

The smile upon her face disappeared in a flash when something broke straight through a wall. Something large, something wearing brazen armor, with a shield that had the engravings of a roaring skull and a sword that was as tall as she was. The dark faceless helmet gazed upon her, causing her to open her mouth to cry in horror, but no sound came out. Whatever horror that she had felt towards the chaos space marines she had met earlier today was eclipsed by this... thing.

"Come with me or else."

Normally, Khornates made better threats. Usually involving incomprehensible screaming and threats of extremely colorful and creative disembowelment and mutilation. This certainly wasn't the case, given the relatively reasonable tone that this one spoke in. But, to be honest, his voice and tone sounding almost negotiating only made it be ten times worse in the eyes of Freya as she ran. Simply ran with a sob of terror as she looked back.

The metal song of a chain sailing through the air hit her audibly and physically as it wrapped around her foot dragging her towards the massive astartes. Grabbing onto a street sign, Freya just found herself screaming "no" as loud as she can before the chain wrenched the pole right out of the ground, leaving her face to face with the chaos space marine.

She gave a whimper.

* * *

><p>Screaming meant distress. And distress meant that his presence would be required. With urgency and speed that was impressive even for an astartes, Od barged his way through walls at the sound. The empty city had been littered with dead, but now with a voice, a terrified voice, it meant that someone was alive, and needing help.<p>

"Wait lad!" Tavish called as he ran after Od. "By me ol' mum, Od ya bloody..."

Od didn't hear him finish his sentence. Only just ran right through an entire city in record speed as he found exactly what was happening. A massive, brazen astartes, chains dragging out of some foul shield crafted within the warp was chaining down a young girl in an imperial guard uniform who was screaming in terror.

A cold fury gripped Od as he recalled everything he hated about chaos. Khornates especially given the markings on that one's armor. With a roar, he charged straight at him.

Marnamai hardly even had time to look up when Od hit him with his shoulder with such incredible force, that the two practically flew into the wall. The taste of blood in Marnamai's mouth worked him up as he looked at his opponent.

A space wolf. Finally, an opponent that would provide him with more than a moment's amusement.

Od looked at Freya for a moment, who was largely unhurt. The chains from that warp spawn's shield had retreated back into their hiding place like snakes into a nest.

Marnamai took a few steps back before saluting his opponent. His opponent, clearly not amused by the Khornate merely spat back at his feet. The hiss of acid burning at the ground emanated from the area. Pointing a power axe right at him, the Space Wolf readied his shield as the two circled one another.

Od moved carefully, knowing full well not to glance behind him. His heightened senses told him that he was covering the young girl that had been assailed by this devil of a man. Knowing that, a few small breezes of relief sailed into him as his eyes stayed upon the champion of chaos, and his weapons. With a roar, Od charged forward his axe striking the foul shield of his opponent while his own shield raised up to block the blow that came.

His opponent was of no small skill, doing so, Od backed himself up as he carefully analyzed the situation. His mind raced as his opponent attacked him with a flurry of beserk yet timed swings which were forced back by the occasional parry and counterattack. Deciding to tip the scales, Od flung his shield right at his opponent, causing the traitor to stumble back. With a roar from his throat, Od dashed forward like a bolter round and punched him in the face.

His opponent stumbled back. And then without warning, with speeds that were impressive even for an astartes, rushed forward and headbutt him, causing Od to be the one being forced back. Luckily, a well-swinging fist to the jaw caused his opponent to slow and stagger, but that was not enough as his opponent fell upon him, not even bothering to use his weapons as he pummeled the Space Wolf.

"FIGHT... WELL... BUT NOT...WELL... ENOUGH!" Marnamai roared as his foot came crashing down into the Space Wolf's gut while his fists aimed right at his opponent's face. A quick hand came up, and caught the two brazen gauntlets. The two of them roaring in their struggle as Marnamai allowed himself to be pushed back, intending to build momentum to crush this upstart.

Something hit Marnamai in the back. Forgetting his whole idea of smashing his opponent's skull, Marnamai just socked him, stunning him. Turning around, he looked at the whelp. Lasgun in hand and firing shots at him like a village idiot with a new stubber.

Any recollection of his mission abandoned him as he ran right at her, intent on crushing her body with his massive form. Instead, what happened was that something else hit him.

"Oi lad! Pick on someone yer own bloody size!" Tavish cackled as he swung his canteen, right at Marnamal's head.

"Gah! How many of you dogs are there?!"

"Enough for us to kill you!" Od roared as he got up and tackled Marnamai. The more experienced khornate merely shrugged him off, but was now dealing with a savage assault from nothing more than a canteen, which had somehow been causing him more pain than a whelp with a lasgun and a fool charging him by a shoulder plate put together.

And for the final event, Tavish grabbed nothing but the fallen stop sign and gave a might swing.

Both Freya and Od would deny for many years, how it even happened.

Somehow, swinging a stop sign was enough was enough to send a fully armored astartes flying straight through a few walls, causing an entire building to collapse on him.

"AHAHAHAHAHAH!" Tavish cackled madly as he had a drink. "Any of yer think ya better den me you're gonna have another thing..."

"Ow." Od groaned as he got up, spitting out a long line of red saliva as he looked ruefully at the dented plates of armor he wore. Hoping the machine spirit wouldn't be too angry, and that they had a spare, he retrieved his weapons as he looked down at Freya. "You okay?"

"I am fine." Freya replied, despite what the current events of the day would tell someone. TWICE, she had been attacked by chaos space marines, and twice she had been saved by the loyal ones. With a smile once more, she looked at her two rescuers. One of them had a shaved head and stubble all over his jawline. Nothing too outstanding saved for the fact he smelled like alcohol. While the other one, despite his wounds still managed to give the appearance of a strapping lad despite the fact he was well over that age. His hair had (prior to being pummeled by a khornate) well-done and he possessed a sizable beard that was clearly shaved to stop it from becoming excessive.

"Alright lassie. Let's get ya back ta where ya need to be. Our merry band of lads are here, and we'll clean up this chaos mess ya got yerselves into. Now then, I'll tell the other boys to get their arses down with the rest of your friends."

"Thank you sir." Freya said as she looked up at Tavish who still wasn't done speaking.

"Alright, and I'll get the captain to make his wa..."

"Do not call me that, and I am here." A familiar voice called.

"It's you..." Freya whispered as she looked at the Space Wolf in the hood. He put up the show of not noticing her, which worked for the time being as he began to discuss matters with his two brothers.

"Then let's go." Od nodded as Ullr stopped speaking. "Come on..."

"Freya." Freya said.

"Freya. It's a pretty name." Od replied. "Come on, can you walk? I'll carry you if you need it."

"I can walk."

"No. Carry her, she'll slow us down." Ullr ordered. Shrugging, Od did as he was told as he picked up the girl, and left her perched upon his unbroken shoulder plate.

Only when Od walked infront of him, did Ullr allow himself to glance back at Freya.

* * *

><p><strong>Thousand Sons are supposed to be Persian... or Egyptian... or something like that. Though as many can probably assume, Vortigan is English. Why? Games Workshop. That's why. <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

When news of astartes arriving, the message spread faster than wildfire as the three wolves, joining up with the rest of their squad marched into the lines of the Imperial Guard. Lines upon lines of the men ran up to greet them, watching the space marines in awe as they made their way in.

Freya never felt more embarrassed and more exalted in her life. The way Od carried her was the same way Od would carry grain on his shoulder. But the way he did it, and the way Freya perched upon him made her feel like some high important inquisitor flaunting his power towards the ordinary people.

"You there. I would like to speak to your commander." Ullr spoke in his normal matter-of-fact voice.

"Right here." Mele called as he approached the astartes and threw him a salute in a dignified manner that was much unlike the state of his clothing. "Under normal circumstances sir, I'd give you a more presentable version of myself."

"You have no need to do so. One who has held out so long against the great enemy and the greenskins should not be worried over his appearance." The astartes replied as he threw an imperial guard-esque salute back.

"Great enemy?"

"Chaos is here. Did you not encounter them?"

"I am afraid not. Our scouts report no such thing."

"Then the traitors must have only gotten here recently." Od pointed out. "Tavish and myself ran into a champion of Khorne who was busy attempting to kill your psyker over here."

"I am fine thanks to you, sir." Freya said as Od finally placed her down.

"Call him Od, lassie. I am Tavish, Tavish Tyr, and this here is Ullr Fraken. But we call him the Captain."

"Don't call me that." Ullr warned. "Commissar, is the general here?"

"He's dead... probably. Currently missing in action." Mele replied. "That means this circus is now in my command."

"Very well. We have chaos that is here, and we need to purge it. We were hoping for a simple Ork hunt, but it appears there is a better hunt to be had." Ullr said as he pulled out his axes for effect. "This position will not hold out for long. My sources indicate a town of sorts just approximately 30 miles from here. We should go there, and fortify the location."

"Very well sir. Men! We move now! Gather your equipment!" The Commissar shouted as the guard got to their feet. "And you, Freya..."

_Here it comes..._ Freya thought as she closed her eyes, waiting for the gloved hand of Mele to come right into her cheek.

"Are you hurt?"

Well then.

"Ummm... umm... eh... no... no... no." Freya replied awkwardly, causing Od to take quite a few glances at her.

"Very well. Thank the Emperor. Where's Eisheth?"

"I... well... I... I lost her... I didn't find her after the artillery strike..."

"Artillery strike?"

"Sensors detected artillery positions hidden around the landscape. One of the reasons we should move. Chaos artillery." Ullr explained. "Eisheth you say? Do not fret, we still have two squads that are deployed. I have broadcasted orders to them to meet back with us in three hours. Rest assured, they will find your friend. Another psyker I presume?"

"Yes. One of the four in our regiment. Hughes and myself preferred the type that didn't explode." Mele replied. "I should get going. I have a set of equipment that is better. And Freya?"

"Yes?"

"Go into my cabin. There is a spare bolter in one of the boxes. Take it. It'll serve you better than a las-gun."

"Thank you sir." Freya nodded as she ran for the cabin, leaving three astartes marching in the general direction of where they need to be.

"Something on your mind Od?" Ullr asked as he skillfully swung his axes in an arc, causing many nervous and awed glances from the guardsman.

"Huh? No. Not at all."

* * *

><p>"Traitors."<p>

The word scarcely left the lips of Dark Angel Librarian Nicodemus before a bolt of psyker lightning seared a cultist into dust. His bolter in the other hand sent down waves of the lethal projectiles, taking the life of all who invited his wrath. Next to him, the barking and snarling of the hunting wolves filled the air as they rushed over the small barricade of rubble, tearing apart limbs and bones as though they were wet toilet paper.

"You already got eight. Good to see you're as good as this as we are friend." One of the wolves commented as he took a shot with a plasma pistol. "Ah, just another wholesome day of slaying heretics."

The librarian snorted. Where the wolves found themselves laughing and reveling in the heat of battle, nothing but a cold fury gripped the Dark Angel. His head hurt from the mead he had earlier, which had hit him the wrong way. Making a mental note, he made sure to give Sandalphon perhaps a few literal pieces of his mind for putting him through this inhumane torment.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the hunting wolves running down some random alley. Normally, he'd alert the handler that one of his wolves, one of his more valuable ones at that, being a blackmane that had decided to go AWOL. But with a head that hurt like it had been struck by a thunderhammer, the librarian wasn't too much in the mood to be doing anyone favors. That, and the fact he was busy killing chaos.

He almost didn't notice the boy running through the bolter fire, barely making it through the bolter fire, making it to safety behind the barricade and at the knee of one of the space wolves.

"Space Marines!" He said as with awe and a smile. "There's more of them over there."

"Thanks." The veteran nodded. "Alright son, are you combat ready?"

"Yes sir!" Erwin nodded.

"Good. And can you aim that weapon of yours?"

"I can hit anything sir."

"Good. Get up on that vantage point. It won't support my brothers, or the librarian, but it'll be good for you. Bonus points if you take out a chaos space marine."

"Bonus points?"

"I tell you more later."

* * *

><p>Sandalphon gave a grunt as he swung the powersword, the bright blade carving the heavy bolter into two useless parts. With a roar, his hand gripped the chaos space marine's armored neck, and his sword plunged right through the traitor's chest, the thick red liquid spilled upon the ground as Sandalphon moved onto his next opponent who was promptly sliced into several fine pieces. Behind him, Apothecary Paul trailed him, just in case. For some reason unknown to Paul, Sandalphon had decided to go off and do his own thing, something uncommon amongst the Dark Angels, especially when Sandalphon was the one who had thought the Space Wolves had made a good plan. Then again, the plan really was nothing more than "get in there and kill everybody".<p>

"Another kill." Paul grinned underneath his helmet as his chainsword's roar came to a halt. "Give us some respite."

"Agreed brother. By the lion, I was not informed of Chaos presence here. But understand I do not object to their being here. Provides me with some further purpose on being here."

"Provides us, old friend. Provides us. Does Nicodemus know?"

"I'll tell him. Eventually. Or maybe he'll find out. He is a librarian."

"Infallible logic as usual." Paul nodded as he glanced at a dead chaos space marine, poking the body with his chainsword. "Shall we move on?"

"We should. But let's give ourselves a moment's rest. We earned it. Besides, the wolves are already on it." Sandalphon turned around as he heard the heavy footfalls of something large. Expecting some wild creature, it was nothing more than one of those blackmane wolves, not just that, but the Ullr's prized one. It tongue hung out and it's eyes flicked upwards to meet Sandalphon, as though telling him something. Before the Dark Angel could react, it leaned over to take a sniff at the Force Commander's sword. An experienced observer like Paul and Sandalphon would realize it wasn't scrutinizing the sword, it was scrutinizing the gem at the end of the hilt.

That gem held memories.

"Sorry boy, you can't have it." Sandalphon warned as he held his sword away from the wolf who gave an annoyed whine before jumping up to take a final good whiff. Then, it ran in the opposite direction, much to the marvel of Paul.

"What was that about?" Paul asked as he scratched his head.

"One way to find out. Stay with the wolves, brother. Lion knows where this leads." Sandalphon said as he went after the blackmane.

* * *

><p><em>"What is this?" <em>

_"It's... it's... it's from my homeworld. It's known as a Nextor Crystal. I... I had the jeweler shape it. You see, when held up in any light, the gem makes a red aura like this. Stories say that these gems were the from sands that the Emperor himself had treaded upon during the great crusade. They're very rare... and... this one... it belonged to my family. We always kept it in our home... but... you know... you know what happened."_

_"I do."_

_"I.. I wish if you would take it." Eisheth said with a small bleat as she held the large gem to Sandalphon. "I... I... know... I am sorry... I... I just want..."_

_Sandalphon said nothing. Only drew her towards him as he gently held her._

_"I know. I wish he was still alive too."_

_For the first time in many years, Sandalphon allowed a small tear to escape his eye. _

* * *

><p>With a small cry from her throat, Eisheth swung her blade with a mighty arc, as it sliced the cultist into a few fine pieces. His companions soon dashed off, seeing that their "victim" they had "cornered" was actually quite dangerous. Turning the corner, Eisheth stopped herself from pursuing, only to run straight into a chaos space marine.<p>

She had experience facing these fiends. Allowing all the advice that friends and companions had given her, she allowed them to pour in. Provoke him. Aim for his joints and neck. He can't bend over...

The Chaos Space Marine took one look at her, before giving a laugh that was enough to freeze blood.

"Really? Is this all that the loyalists have to fight me?! ME?! Go home pup! Tell them to send a man to face me!"

"Humph. Scared that I may send you weeping back to your daemons?" Eisheth smirked as her hands gripped ever tighter on her sword.

"You asked for it." The astartes sniggered as he ran Eisheth with a roar.

Timing was everything. An astartes had reactions fast enough to strike at someone who side-stepped if given just an extra second. When she threw herself away from the swing, Eisheth could feel herself losing a few strands of her hair from the chainsword. Doing like she had been taught by an experienced stormtrooper, she aimed her blade backwards and took a stab.

Not a fatal blow, but good enough. Recognizing the sounds, the witch deduced that she had sliced one of the joints to the back of the legs. Turning around to see her handiwork, all she saw was a pissed off astartes, who was leaving a trickle of blood down upon his armor. With a roar his sword came down.

It hurt her wrists, but she managed to block it. Thanking the fact she was a psyker, and the extra burst of strength, she quickly broke lock and backed off, making sure to do so in a rolling fashion that'd made it difficult for something as large as an astartes to swing downwards.

"Is this a dance or a fight?!"

Ignoring the taunt, Eisheth's mind raced as she backed off for a moment. He was stronger. Faster. And if she didn't come up with a plan soon, she was going to be deader that Gitstompa. Checking her surroundings, all there was to her dismay, was nothing but an empty wall that'd help her in no way shape or form.

Her planning was what gave his opponent an advantage. When he bolted forward, she hardly reacted. Though she managed to avoid being trampled to death, his chainsword lashed out and though it's teeth never made contact with her, the blunt end was more than enough to send her off her balance. Her opponent only grinned wickedly. Inwardly, Eisheth grinned even wider.

When the sword came down, it was met with nothing but a glowing disk, no larger than that of a Frisbee. But that was just enough to stop the chainsword dead in his traps.

Eisheth never quite forgot the look on his face, when she pulled the trigger on the lasgun. The only hazard after that was making sure his body wouldn't crush her.

Retrieving her blade, Eisheth gave a small satisfied sigh, only to look up, and see something that terrified her more than any Chaos Space Marine ever could hope to do so.

A massive wolf, the size of a horse looked dead into her eyes. She tried to make stand upright into a proper position, only to realize that the chainsword had caused her immense amounts of blunt injuries. Given that it had been a chaos space marine, it would be considered lucky for most to be only left with a few bruises rather than say, shattered bones which would be a more common outcome.

"You handled yourself well. I am glad years aren't enough to make you forget." The voice called.

"Sandalphon?" Eisheth asked as the massive wolf that had been gazing upon her suddenly became irrelevant. "You..."

Almost unable to contain his immense joy, the astartes peeled off his helmet and flicked his hands toward him, compelling Eisheth towards him.

"It's good to see you again too." The Space Marine smiled as he went on to the vox. "Brothers. Cousins. I am en route to the rendezvous point."

From a fair distance away, a lone figure in black watched the two as they slowly became dots on the horizon, before fading away.

* * *

><p>Vortigan had been expecting Marnamai to come any minute. Sitting down at his dinner, the sorcerer leisurely carved up the roasted meat as the champion of Khorne stormed into his quarters, his armor looking a bit worse for wear and his mood perfectly reflecting his patron god.<p>

"Returned chap? How about some gru..."

"Save it, warlock." Marnamai hissed as he spat on the floor, much to the disgust of Vortigan who just had his personal janitor wax and clean it merely hours ago. "You never said anything about loyalist dogs being here."

"Well... old bean, surely you understand. I found the news myself just literally ten minutes ago!"

Marnamai grumbled incomprehensibly to himself as he stormed out. Normally, the khornate would have punched the sorcerer straight in the face, though even he knew better than to break one of Vortigan's silverware or china, knowing fully well what happened to one of his beserkers who had committed such an act of stupidity. Instead, the khornate vented is anger by leaving a piece of his mind in an unfortunate slave that had just been too close by, and having his personal armorer make the repairs to his damaged armor.

His mind raced. HIM. Marnamai! One of the most favored champions of khorne, defeated by nothing but a drunken fool, a milk slopping whelp and an idiot loyalist and a... a sign? Inconceivable!

* * *

><p>When the Imperial guard had first touched down on Oedipus, they were greeted like kings to a banquet. Now, as they arrived in some tranquil shanty off a large city, the townspeople could only hardly bear to look at them.<p>

Commissar Mele felt this the most. Despite being in what many could describe as his "sunday best", the rest of his men certainly didn't look the same way as their officer. Many were wearing nothing more than their undershirts, their "armor" having proved so ineffectual at keeping in one piece, that it was better for them to simply discard the broken uniform than keep it on. Inwardly, the Commissar knew well enough that most commissars would have executed the men for uniform violations. Outwardly, one less soldier would be the difference between life or death.

A fat nervous man, dressed better than the rest of the rabble in this town walked up to the commissar, as though he was ready to hear bad news. He was well-prepared.

"Welcome..." The mayor replied with a forced smile. "What can we do for the defenders of the Imperium?"

Before Mele could as much as open his mouth to speak, a squabble of sorts erupted from behind him. Spinning around, the commissar got an eyeful of two of his men fighting with one of the townspeople, something about demanding free-food.

He couldn't blame them. He really couldn't. He himself hadn't had a hot meal for days straight. But inwardly, there was nothing more shameful in the eyes of a commissar than see the regiment he worked so hard to maintain break down into a throng of indisciplined dimwits. Tightening his fist, the commissar marched right over to the two men as he gave the mayor a nod.

Boxing had been one of Mele's childhood hobbies, and the years and hardships had only strengthened the commissar to ever greater heights. With a mighty swing, one of the offenders found himself thrown against a wall. The other one would be put straight to sleep as Mele's fist came right into his face.

"Let me make this clear!" Mele's voice called over the silence. "These two got off lucky. I catch anyone, attempting to haggle for "free-goods" and they will be SHOT. Do you dogs understand?!"

Through murmuring and some well-hidden complaints, the Imperial Guard gave their reply.

"I am sorry." Mele said as he approached the mayor once more. "But situations are worsening. We require the usage of your town as a forward base against our enemies."

The mayor didn't say anything. Only nodded in understanding.

"I suggest you remain in your homes. This may get ugly. I cannot order your people to give us lodging, but if you can provide, I will greatly appreciate it."

"Oi! Dat's the spirit! And lad, if ye could git me some of yer best scrumpy, I'd appreciate it!" A loud boisterous voice called as a fully-armored astartes stumbled through the crowds of guardsmen. "You see lad, some gits had been hunting trouble. They found it!"

The sight of an astartes caused windows to open and heads to turn. Before Tavish knew it, the local bartender was giving him entire boxes of whiskey to appease one of the Emperor's angels of death. Grinning to himself, and making sure to avoid eye-contact with Ullr, the space marine cracked one of the bottles and gave himself a deep satisfying gulp.

"The Space Wolves will aid the reconstruction of this world once we have finished our war. We'll make sure to compensate your people." Ullr nodded as he glared at Tavish. He looked into the crowd that had begun to gather, especially the children. Awed. Inwardly, the astartes could not help but pity every last one of them. Sighing to himself, he knelt down on a knee to one of the children, from his cloak, he produced a small silver coin which he gave to the boy who ran to his mother, announcing how an astartes had given him the coin. The mother stared at him, and immediately collapsed onto her knees in prayer.

* * *

><p>The attention that Ullr, Tavish and Od had gathered would be nothing when the entirety of their force had grouped up. Immediately, Ullr gave his orders on patrol duties to his astartes, working with Commissar mele. For the guardsmen, to fight alongside an astartes was the highest of all honors. For an astartes, fighting alongside a guardsman was more often than not, having someone getting in your way.<p>

That aside, that detail was something best laid to rest. Librarian Nicodemus had been the one to point it out, to which the good majority of the other space marines were quick to tell him that it shouldn't matter. Whether or not they knew it to be true, was a mystery to even the gods of the warp.


	8. Chapter 8

"From our count milord, the loyalists number only a few hundred mortals, and no more than twoscore astartes. We have but hundreds of chaos space marines among us." Vortigan stated as he casually sipped tea from his cup. "Now then. I believe it is within our abilities to launch a single strong, swift and brutal attack. Sure. We'll take losses, but what good are those fools to begin with? This world will then be ours. Ours to do whatever we please with it."

"I didn't come to this backwater planet to pillage it." The chaos lord replied as he stared into the direction of where the loyalists had dug in. "We leave as soon as I get what I came for. A favor for Lord Magnus of "your" legion. And another for my own personal tastes."

"Surely milord, it's better to have another world rather than burn it to ash?"

"The devil we have sold our service to will give us a thousand worlds like this if we do this right." The lord explained as he continued staring into the direction. "Perhaps you may no longer even have to fear those that had been hunting you for so long ever again."

"Permit me, if even I may have my doubts to Magnus the Red. And hopefully, the devil doesn't hear I say that."

"Speak of him, and he'll come to you."

"I don't want him to come for me. Perhaps he may be the one thing less desirable than if I were to fall into my pursuers hands. What I want is a world to call a haven, and perhaps my ascension. As soon as possible. Only when I am daemonkind, do I know they will cease their damned chase."

"Zhar Lah Zigil." The lord whispered. Beneath his armor, he could already feel Vortigan's blood turn to ice. "I know what he wants. Not just your death of course. What was his order? For your crimes, you would pay a price with such weight, not even the daemons of the warp could conceive of it?"

"Milord... if you may please, do not mention that hellspawn's name, lest I feel he may be drawn to it." Vortigan babbled as the cloak of fear slowly crept up on him.

"I am only saying it to ensure you remain loyal. Lest you want somehow, Seef finds out your exact location." The lord beneath said coldly. "Know that when I saved your miserable life you wretch, it belongs to me. Until I believe you have served my price, you belong to me. Now then... maybe it's time you did something useful..."

"At once milord." The sorcerer nodded as sweat began to form on his neck. "What do you require?"

* * *

><p>"Why do we bother with this shanty?" Nicodemus asked himself as he in his state of boredom, flicked pebbles into a wall as the crowd from afar gazed upon him like a god amongst men.<p>

"Because. These are the Emperor's people. We leave them to chaos, and we can expect ourselves to be no better than the dogs we fight." Sandalphon replied. "Our honor, and our chapter's honor will be stained."

"Indeed. The Lion would look upon his sons with much shame if he saw men who were so willing to abandon the very people they have been sworn to defend. Many of our brothers and cousins forget that. It's heartening to see the Wolves have not. And neither will we."

"Humph. Emperor knows what will happen to these mortals the moment the inquisition get's their hands on them. And then the guard. They're not going to be entirely safe."

"Forget what happens after. Keep in mind what happens now." Sandalphon nodded as he went to take his leave. The Dark Angel Force Commander turned the corner and into the local park, where at the center of the pavilion, Commissar Mele had set up his forward ace of operations. Upon one of the benches, the Space Marine would find Eisheth, and his equipment, the former of which was poking at the ground with a stick.

"I am glad you haven't forgotten what you were taught." Sandalphon nodded as his sharp eye caught the bandages underneath Eisheth's uniform.

"I think I was more lucky." Eisheth commented. "You know, most people get broken bones from getting hit... not just a few scratches."

"Luck has nothing to do with it." Sandalphon replied as he quickly found something to change the topic with. He elected to simply removing his helmet and placing it on the bench, where he had left his powersword in Eisheth's care. "It's good seeing you here."

"That actually reminds me." Eisheth caught on, changing the subject faster than Sandalphon. "Why are there only three of you? I see like thirty Space Wolves, but you're and the two others are the only ones from your chapter. I don't recall there being small-scale Dark Angel operations."

It was better for her to see his face when he said this. Taking off his helmet, Sandalphon let out a string of laughs as he placed his headgear on Eisheth's lap.

"Well... let's just say I may be subject to disciplinary action, or put in for some honors when we are done."

"You..."

"Yes. I did." Sandalphon nodded as he turned around, watching with some amusement as Eisheth body temperature went up. "It's good seeing you again."

* * *

><p>"And that is the issue." Mele began as he paced around the table that they'd set up. "We had an idea to how many Orks there were when they arrived. The issue is, now that chaos shows its face. We don't know how much there are. We could be dealing with only a small warband, or we could have hundreds of chaos space marines on our hands."<p>

"I hate to break it to you sir, but I have some reason to believe that it may be the latter." Königin commented glumly. "There wasn't a living Ork in sight, and there were dozens of those red ones going around killing Orks like they were picking daisies."

"Aye. I believe they are or were being led by a powerful champion." Od nodded. "We have reason to believe though, he has been slain, or at the very least critically injured."

"Fair enough. But there isn't much we know about the enemy." Mele sighed. "An..."

The commissar didn't get to finish his sentence when the sound of someone running in a hurry to him went right up the steps. Turning their heads at the panting guardsman; witch, commissar and astartes all turned their heads at the man who though giving labored breaths had a wide grin.

"Sir. One of our rescue teams found Hughes. He's alive!"

"Praise the Emperor!" Mele said with the first smile he had in a long time. Dropping what he was doing, the commissar left the pavilion to go find his CO. Instead, the general would find him. Though worse for wear, the general still held an air of command. He waved a dirty hand at his Commissar.

"Good to see you're keeping everything in order Mele." Hughes smiled as his eye turned to Eisheth, who was trailing Sandalphon.

"Good to see you're alive general." Mele said with a nod. "I was worried they'd got you."

"I am one tough man to kill." Hughes nodded. "Ah! And I see the Emperor's adeptus astartes come to join the battle!"

"Indeed General." Sandalphon nodded as he walked up the steps that creaked and groaned underneath his immense weight. "Unfortunately, as you may know, chaos spreads its taint here. Do not worry, for I will make sure it is cleansed out of this world."

"Thank you Commander. It is an honor to fight among Space Marines."

"The honor is mine as well. To fight among brave men." Sandalphon replied as he looked down at Eisheth. "Now then General..."

"OI! YOU LADS HAVING A TEA PARTY WITHOUT ME?!" A loud, boisterous slur echoed as Tavish stumbled in. "NOW THEN LADS. NOW THAT I AM HERE... WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE'S GONNA KICK THEIR SORRY..."

"You should lie down." Od said cutting him off. "General... if you may tell us your strategy... we can perhaps adapt to it ourself. Or even propose a new one."

"Actually... since we don't really have much information on our enemy as of now... I was thinking of sending Eisheth and someone else to go scout up ahead. Look, I am not exactly feeling well, I am glad to be alive and everything, but Mele, can I trust you to take up command. However... just make sure Eisheth goes to scout. She's the best at it. Give her someone else to go along with her. That'll help."

"Very well sir. Get some bed rest. Feel better." Mele nodded. "Eisheth. Koni. You two up for scouting?"

"You can count on me sir." Koni said with a wink, much to Mele's chagrin.

"Same goes for me." Eisheth nodded, watching as Erwin hovered in the background. "Erwin? You want to come along as wel..."

"Yes please!" The boy started. "Can I go with them sir?"

Mele looked Erwin. And then looked back to Koni. Those two. Those two. Admittedly, he liked both of them very much. They were some of the best shots in the entire regiment, or at least what was left of it. Yet at the same time, what those two did in their free time was questionable. Deciding that perhaps it was best if...

"Sorry son. I need you here. You're the second best shot in the regiment." Mele said shaking his head sadly. "But. Next time."

Erwin nodded, though giving an "aww" in disappointment. When most of the crowd had dispersed, Mele found himself left with himself and that Dark Angel commander.

"I swear. Who's idea is it to send me children for soldiers?" Mele asked irritably.

"They're psykers. You know how useful it is to have them by your side?" Sandalphon replied.

"That's not my point. You know those two? Erwin and Königin. Those two? They'll be playing comedy before long."

"Comedy?" Sandalphon asked scratching his head.

"Funny things. Simply put. I had a reason to believe that Erwin would be shagging Kon..."

"With all due respect sir... I wo..."

"Nothing from you kiddo. You stay here. I need my sharpshooter. Here. Next time, I'll let you go with her. Deal? And you better promise that you won't be doing anything that'll require my boot to go up your arse."

"Yessir!" Erwin said with a hint of disappointment.

"Don't worry." Koni smiled as she winked mischievously at Erwin. "We'll be fine."

"Alright." Erwin said, still unsure. He was about to speak up, when Ullr came up. "Yes, sir?"

"Anyone seen Od?"

* * *

><p>"So, how long have you been an astartes?" Freya asked Od as the massive giant of a man sat down on the wooden dock, the entire foundation groaning underneath his sheer weight. Within his hands, was not a weapon, but instead a long rod that had been pieced together, with a string. Typical Fenrisian fishing apparatus for the long, cold days.<p>

"Less than 30 years." Od replied. "My brothers still believe I am too young to be a Grey Hunter. Humph. Tavish and Ullr think otherwise however, and they part of the reason I was able to get where I am in such a short time. Ah, good ol' Tyr as they call him. You know, he always reeks of that rum. And Ullr? They call him the Captain. I still don't know why. Neither does anyone, maybe except Ullr and Tavish. They say the story doesn't go back too far. Maybe about 20 years. Humph. Still a greenhorn then."

"Where'd you learn how to fish?" Freya asked as she watched Od expertly draw his line, waiting for his prey to bite. Whistling to himself, the astartes patiently waited as the fish would come swimming for his bait.

"My grandfather taught me. Shame that he died just before I was inducted. He would have been a proud man. I always dreamed of returning home in some cold day, bringing home maybe some gifts for my family, and I always imagined my grandfather. How proud he'd be. But you know, every time I get the chance to go back to where I came from, my cousin and my nephew are the only ones still alive that I know. Maybe I'll bring the boy to the fang when they need more men. He'll make a good warrior."

"I always thought space marines were never allowed to leave the monasteries."

"Most aren't. The Salamanders however, not only allow their brothers to return home, but to even endorse having families of their own. Maybe that's why the salamanders were always so unwilling to lose even a single one of their men. There are blood brothers, fathers, cousins and uncles amongst them."

"What about the wolves?"

"You see... they allow it. But I've only seen a handful of wolves actually related. Mostly cousins and brothers. But you know, Tavish's father was once an astartes. Brought his son up to the fang, and he turned out to be a great warrior. It's a tragedy that he died. Maybe that was why Ullr and Tavish decided to start their own little band of merry men... caught one."

Jerking his rod out of the water with all the superhuman strength in his body. The space marine grinned with a large array of rather sharp teeth as he placed his catch on the wood. The massive fish flopped on the dry land, before Od wrapped just a few fingers around its body, and gave it a merciful end. Giving an estimate... 4 pounds.

"Ah. That's a good one." Od smiled. "I always fished whenever I had the change. Usually when I played with my nephew. He was only this tall about a year ago."

The man made a gesture of relative height before turning back to his fishing, thinking about his family that he had left behind.

"Maybe some day. Maybe some day I can have a son too. Maybe I can watch him become an astartes. Maybe I can be proud of him. Just like how Tavish's father must of have been. And like how my grandfather would have been."

Turning to Freya, the space marine smiled, gently waving the curious creature over and handing her the slimy creature he just caught.

"Here. You look like you haven't eaten a good meal in days. Take it and share it with a friend or two." Od suggested as he grabbed one of his nutrient bars. The pleasant smell of smoked bacon reached his nostrils as he took a bite, savoring the pleasant salty and crunchy flavor. After he was done, the marine returned to his fishing.

* * *

><p>"Do they think they're a welfare organization?" Nicodemus sighed for the umpteenth time as he saw Od handing out his catch. "What possible good do they think they'll do by feeding some doomed souls?"<p>

"The commander wouldn't have come all the way here if he thought they were doomed brother." Paul commented as he saw the excited children swarm Od, as he gave them all more than enough to feed their families for the next few days. "Food had been short when the Orks came. Shut down the entire continent. Now that chaos is here, its likely that small places like here would be abandoned to damnation if it hadn't been these guardsmen. And the commander's decision."

"Let's not forget the wolves. They must think they're charity. What do they expect to gain?"

"Nothing." Paul replied. "Nothing at all."

"Fools."

"There's an idea the wolves cling onto. A sort of code that most astartes never understand. It's the same code the Salamanders have hung to, and it is a creed that may be as old as the Emperor itself. Most men believe that these rules are just made by deluded and charitable fools. The idea is simple. Give all you can. One day, these people will give something back."

"Foolish principles. I don't believe there is much beggars can offer."

"I don't adhere to them. I merely try to just do my job." Paul replied as his eye caught Sandalphon and Eisheth. "Must be a good jog down memory lane for the commander."

"How so?"

"That girl he speaks to? They're friends."

"How idiotic. Maybe the commander is too sentimental of a soul for his own good."

"Wrong brother. Because years ago, his blood-brother had been slain in battle by the forces of chaos. Had our brother-commander not been such a sentimental soul, I doubt he'd be where he was today." Paul replied with a rather stern tone as he recalled the countless one-man crusades Sandalphon must have gone, after flying into various stages of depression and berserk rage. The deeds done had been enough for even the most hardened of warriors to soil themselves in sheer terror.

_10 heretics for every man serving under the inquisitor. 100 heretics for every brother that had fallen. 1000 for my fallen kin. _

* * *

><p>"Stay safe." Sandalphon nodded underneath his helmet as he looked to Eisheth.<p>

"Thanks." Eisheth smiled as she waved to an old friend.

He would have waved back. Back then, that'd be the source of more lamentations from the librarian. Humph. Bringing him along. Sometimes, Sandalphon had joked inwardly with himself that it would have been better for him to get shot with a bolter than listen to the librarian's ramblings of his visions and about how he felt Sandalphon's "coddling" of mortals would never have any lasting impact.

Good thing Paul didn't think that way.

And thank the Emperor, he found himself surrounded by astartes who believed the same things he believed. He turned around, to see the young hunter of the wolves handing out fish to the not-so-fortunate.

Inwardly, he felt a small twinge of an uplifted soul.


	9. Chapter 9

"Well milord? What do you think of our dig?" The astartes overseeing the mining operations asked his patron as the black armored space marine brushed right by him. Giving a nod of relative approval, the overseer would give himself a slight sigh of relief as he barked to his underlings to make sure that none of these tortured souls would be able to even grab a moment's rest. If they tried, flay their skins off. Like most members of this warband, the astartes would not know what his lord was looking for. All he was told by that warlock was that "you'll know it once you see it". Sorcerers. Them and their stupid riddles and their elitist ways. If it was up to the majority of the warband, many of them would like to see if Vortigan was so smart if his brains were outside of his head.

The lord in black continued his descent down the mines, giving small nostril flares of disappointment that whatever it was he was looking for, he didn't have it. Coming back up, he gave a silent nod to the two guards to come along with him. Marnamai and Vortigan had been waiting for a while. The massive marine in brass colored armor had long been waiting and was eager for whatever it was his lord requested of him. The champion of Khorne made a show of pounding his fists together, which was for the most part ignored.

The lord underneath his ebon helmet smiled slyly to himself as he looked at Vortigan. The man was a wreck underneath that well-made appearance. After having that warlock around, it was quite easy to tell what made Vortigan uncomfortable. Taking off his helmet, the sorcerer acknowledged his lord and began to speak in his usual well mannered speech, albeit somewhat quickly as though he was nervous. Which, he was.

"Alright milord. We did everything. It's all set up."

"Good job. Marnamai, you will go with Vortigan to the waypoint I had shown you."

"What?! With this rat?"

"Well, way to hurt someone's feelings old sport. Just because I am not feeling well in the stomach doesn't mean you have the right to throw verbal abuse at my goodself. Humph. Must have been something I had for tea. I'll remember to "dismiss" that brewer later."

"Remember what I told you. And remember... if what you accomplish is not to my liking, YOU..." The black armored marine gestured at Marnamai. "Will..."

"Yes... yes... we've been over this before. You're going to send me into a state of such pain that daemons will tremble in terror. I've heard that a threat a million times. In fact, I'll even invite someone to try once in a while. Yes... a fight with me... and I'll tie both my hands behind my back..." The big astartes boasted. "But... whatever it is. I'll do your bidding. And I'll accomplish it."

"Good. For a warrior is not a warrior without his honor." The lord leered, knowing the best way to get Marnamai to do something was to poke at his ego. Turning to Vortigan, the lord said just a single word.

"Zigil."

* * *

><p>"Well... we got an issue." Koni commented as she took her binoculars and handed them to Eisheth. "Within this block alone, I already found like eight of them. Chances are, we got chaos crawling through this city. It's going to get ugly."<p>

"Good thing then we have the loyal sons of the Emperor to fight with us." Eisheth commented again. "Let's circle around. See if we can't get as good of a headcount as possible."

"Yeah." Koni agreed as the two scouts sneaked their way through the sidelines, freezing every time they believed someone was even as much as taking a cursory glance within their direction. The sounds of drilling and construction filled the air as the two found themselves moving around the edges.

"Well... that doesn't sound good." Eisheth commented as the sound became more apparent. "If they're building something..."

"Then these guys aren't here to plunder. They're here to stay. Not only that, but if they decided to bring building equipment, we can bet body parts that they're gonna be dug in and have plenty of people to throw at us."

"What are they building anyways?" Eisheth asked partly to herself, partly to Koni as the two moved again. "Should we check it out?"

"Definitely." Koni nodded. "I thought their base or something was deeper in the city."

"It is. I think that's where they first attacked. Chances are, when they demolished the Orks, they probably decided to recycle a perfectly good position."

"Huh. How do you know?"

"I just do. I've seen many effective commanders do that in the past. If I am not mistaken, the primary base of operations for these maniacs must be in the center of the city. A place easy to defend. Because right now, no one in the right mind would try building something out in the open where it's going to be vulnerable." Koni said as she took her binoculars. "Yes... whatever they're doing over there, it's not going to be some kind of citadel or glamorous fort."

"Then what do you think they're doing?"

"Only one way to find out." Koni said as the two of them approached the mine, laying flat upon their stomachs and weaving through the hills and grass.

A stomp that came like a thunder almost gave Eisheth a heart attack. Looking right up, she saw the massive form an astartes, head facing (thankfully) in the opposite direction. She held her breath in, afraid to even as much as breath as the heretic moved away rather quickly, but with each step sounding like an earthquake. Only when he was a fair distance away did she allow herself the luxury of breathing again.

"That was too close."

"Aye. Way too close."

The two pressed onward. Deep into the maws of hell, and the arms of the devils.

* * *

><p>"So. Here's my plan." Ullr said as he laid down the crudely drawn sketch made by the "best" artist in the entire regiment. "From our intelligence, the heretics should be garrisoned at the center of this city. It's the most strategical and logical places to be. Here. This is the center and the easily most fortified point. Here is where we have gathered to be the site of the chaos stronghold. We would normally call down an orbital strike, but I fear our ship had to be moved lest it fell prey to any chaos warships that may be in the region."<p>

"Well then. Here's my plan." Tavish said as he grabbed the sketch, and threw it off the table. "We go in there... and we kick their arses. Good plan? Yes?"

"Excellent!" Ullr snapped sarcastically. "Now then, who has a good strategy?!"

"Barge in there and kill them all!"

"Bring out the Heavy bolters!"

"Kill them from the skies!"

"KILL THEM WITH FIRE!"

"Can anyone who is sober, come up with a good strategy, or do I have to do all the thinking to myself once more?!" Ullr Fraken asked as his palms hit his forehead.

"Why don't we wait for our scouts to return?" The Dark Angel Force Commander suggested, being one of the few sober people in the room.

"Two people? That's a HUGE difference right there mate."

"Huge indeed. I've seen many battles where a single skilled soldier turned the tides of battle just with his presence. I may or may not be speaking about myself. But hey, I think I should give others the pedestal. The commissar has said that those are his two best snipers. Besides, an additional pysker in our ranks will make a difference."

"Waiting around? Ah don't like it lad. I want to go in there, and pull their bloody arms off!" Tavish said as he grabbed a chainsword for effect.

"You'll get plenty of time to do that later! We could also use an excellent report of the details of enemies too!"

"Wait a minute..." Mele spoke up. "Where are those two? This shouldn't be taking THIS long."

"They'll be fine." Sandalphon said with rather surprising confidence.

"Well what if they aren't?" The commissar asked rhetorically. "That's two of the few people in this regiment that actually have a pair! I speak figuratively of course..."

"Well commissar, if it suits you, and judging how my friend Tyr here grows impatient, let's go and see if can't get a preemptive strike upon them in two hours if they do not return."

"Sounds good to me. I am worried about those too."

He had good reason to be.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody hell is this?" Koni asked from behind the rocks as she looked at the mining site. "That's not a construction site... that's a mine!"<p>

"What? Chaos got bored and decided to dig for gold?" Eisheth joked dryly as she looked at the dig.

"Seriously though. What are they digging?" Koni asked as she looked at the workers dumping a wheelbarrow of rocks and rubble. In a corner, various trinkets were stacked upon a tall mound, all of various degrees of value ranging from fossils to shiny rocks. Evidently, nothing that chaos found too attractive.

"Umm... let me see..." Eisheth said as she closed her eyes and concentrated. Breathing deeply, she became one with the earth around her. She breathed like the rock, sitting timeless and witnessing endless events. She flew like a passing pigeon, seeing all in sight. She finally found herself falling through the earth, watching as the tortured souls were whipped and tormented into submission, digging for a thing that few of their masters even had a clue on what is was. Her visions would slowly fade as her eyes snapped open.

"Damn. Don't know... wait... there's... there's a wall? And... on that wall... there are carvings! Carvings of... of two wolves! But..."

"Eisheth." Koni rasped as her voice all of a sudden held great levels of panic.

"Hold on Koni... um... there's a wolf... and there's a carving of someone... I... eh..."

"EISHETH!" Koni screamed as keeping quiet no longer mattered. "EISHETH!"

She snapped out of her vision, looking at Koni, but focusing on the thing behind her. Koni's next words were totally unnecessary.

"They've found us!"

It was that instant that the world erupted into chaos as the scream tore its way from the chaos space marines mouth. Instead of running however, knowing that would be the wrong move, Eisheth lunged forward, completely surprising the astartes. In a moment, the hum of the powersword would be screeching through power armor and flesh as it pierced the heart of the heretic screaming in absolute agony.

"That happened." Marnamai commented from his vantage point as he gave a raised eyebrow. This one was nothing like that other cowardly harlot who fled at the sight of an enemy. No. This one, this one was fierce. Inwardly, Marnamai felt almost proud at the puny mortal that managed to slay one of his men. To his own chagrin, at the sight of such a feat, his other men decided to hang back, evidently afraid of a kitten with claws.

But he would deal with that later as he saw the other one taking flight. Raising his shield, he always enjoyed the next part.

Like snakes out of a nest, the chains shot out and wrapped around her body, dragging her all the way back to where Marnamai stood. The screeching thing was shut up, as Marnamai planted his foot firmly, but not anywhere close to bone-crushingly upon the witch's back. The chains miraculously disappearing from her body the moment it'd be most convenient for Marnamai.

"Alright you yellow-gutted pillicocks! Get your rumps out of my sight!" Voritgan said as he pushed away the hesitant astartes besides him. Moving forward, he lunged at his prey who swung that oversized sword like a champion. Vortigan's own sword came down to block the driving strike. The two swords locked for a moment, his helmet's display showing him an excellent sight of Eisheth's eyes. For moments, he wondered if there'd be any creature willing to look into those orbs, and not be enamored at them instantly or soil themselves in terror from the fire underneath. But that was beyond the point. This must have been bold to fight an astartes in such close quarters, or perhaps stupid. Either way, it only made Vortigan's life easier whereas it may have been the end for his dumber subordinates.

Lashing out with unnatural speed, the blade flew right out of Eisheth's hands. For a fatal moment, she looked back. Vortigan grinned as he prepared for a crippling strike. The girl looked back into his eyes, and a wave of bright flame flashed him in the chest.

"That hurt madam. You may have the looks of an angel, but that was one roguish move!" Vortigan rasped as a few stings of pain stabbed him. His hand wrapped around Eisheth's neck, and he walked her straight next to Koni, who was still struggling with oxygen from under Marnamai's foot.

"Let... go.. of... me!" Koni rasped as she gasped and struggled for air.

"Be silent whelp."

From in front of her, the lord in black approached. Her eyes faded into two small dots as her mouth hung open at the midnight armor, as the helmet's visor stared straight into her. Eisheth had similar reactions as she dig her best to free herself from Vortigan's grasp.

There was nothing, nothing that could describe Eisheth's absolute disgust and abhorrence as that... thing... reached out it's hand and touched her right on the face. Gently caressing her as one would do to a delicate object.

"This is the right one." She heard the droning voice of the helmet speak.

_I've found you. Finally_.

"Jolly good! What do we do with this one?" Vortigan asked as she gestured at Koni. Surprisingly, Marnamai lifted his foot up, allowing the girl to rise, gasping in various degrees of discomfort.

"She's of no concern to me." The lord replied as Eisheth felt _something_ hit her like raindrops from the sky. He looked down for a moment, as the cargo in his hands fell into a blissful sleep for the time being.

"Ah good! I was hoping we didn't have to keep her!" Marnamai said as his massive sword exited from it's sheath within his shield. Koni glared at him, much to the amusement of the champion of Khorne.

"You kill many people right? Unarmed? Just like you're about to kill me?"

"Yes! And you know why? Because it's fun! That's why! And for every single damn slave of that pathetic Emperor I kill, Khorne will actually give me something! The Dark Gods will actually give me something! Now then... why don't you just close your eyes... and maybe I'll kill you quickly!"

"I'd sooner die a thousand times than obey some heretic!" Koni snarled angrily as she found herself backing against a chaos space marine that not too gently, pushed her forward. "The Emperor will have his justice upon you, traitor!"

"Maybe one day. But not today."

To her surprise, it wasn't the big one that spoke, bot the sorcerer.

"He'll catch up to us all one day. I know he will. Who doesn't know? It's the great scheme of things. Eventually, he'll win."

Silence. That was the only reply to Vortigan's statement.

"A prophecy was made upon the tomb of a saint that the Emperor would ultimately win. Abaddon believed destroying the tomb would stop it from coming true. But even the despoiler should know that not even gods can escape fate. The Emperor can not be tracked from his fate, nor can the dark gods leave theirs. That is the natural way of things. And upon the day that prophecy comes true, even the gods will curse the days they were spawned and I expect it'd be plenty of roses for that corpse of an Emperor."

"If that is true... why do you stray? Why do you fight for what is not right? Why do you fight for those who are damned?"

"Because. I had been the last loyal son. I had not been there when my legion damned itself. I had been on Terra, watching as The Emperor faded into the corpse he was. I had watched as Ahzek Ahriman despoiled his own legion, I watched as Magnus the Red played into the hands of Tzeentch like the fool he always was. And then I realized. I was lost. That was my fate. But... fates can end in different ways. There's a particular man I wouldn't want my fate to be decided by. That's why I avoid him. Perhaps one day, I'll die. And be damned for the criminal I was, but not today, and definitely not by that man. But you my dear... your path ends today, and ends now."

"Then kill me dog. Kill me and be done with it." Koni said without a trace of fear in her eyes. "My Emperor will protect me."

"I know he will. That's what he does. And that's why I turned on him. He never protected me." Vortigan said as the hidden knife drove it's way into Koni's gut. Unlike the swift death she had hoped for, it'd take a while for her to bleed out as Vortigan had anticipated.

"Allow me to give you a parting gift my dear. It's a prayer recited by my people, the ones that hunt me. It should send you to your Emperor faster."

Slowly, his mouth opened to recite the hallowed words.

_Nafir, rumn num moor. _Forgive, and have mercy upon her.

_Nafir avah oh no sami mo, _Excuse and pardon her.

_rak namah wif ramn nah. _Protect her from the punishment of the grave.

_Alli capi, alli capo. _And the torment of the fire.

_Ramn nah, mith avor. _Cleanse her, in ice and hail.

With that, he allowed Koni to fall down, her chest still rising as she gasped for air. A single tear flowing down her cheek.

"Take her body, and throw it in the ditch. Don't make a mess." Vortigan said as he turned around. His lord and his prize was nowhere in sight.


End file.
